Walking a Fine Line
by I Got Tired of Waiting
Summary: COMPLETE :: SLASH :: Chapter 03 of Hiding Under the Ninth Earth : after Epithalamium :: A Pensieve accident gives Severus a whole new perspective of his husband & of himself & makes him ask the question: Who are the victims?
1. The Sanction of the Victim

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line

_Warnings: This story is very dark and contains details of a pregnancy gone bad as well as a graphic description of a Gobbelworm birth. If you are sensitive to this type of situation, please read no further as it is not my intent to distress you._

**Part I : The Sanction of the Victim  
****12 February 2023** (Continued)

"Severus, I'm all done in." Rising unsteadily from the chair in Snape's office, Harry yawned hugely, his eyes tearing. "Sorry. I'm off to bed. I know I said I'd help with the paperwork, but I can't keep my eyes open much longer."

Severus finished locking the glass-door cabinet, in which he secured a gold orb stand, before walking over to Harry. He slid his arms around the slender waist while Harry was in mid-stretch, arms high over his head and back arched. "I'm the one who should be sorry. Are you all right?" Severus ran his hands up his husband's back by way of further apology, kneading a tight muscle bunched below one shoulder. Dipping his head, he slowly chased his lips down Harry's outstretched neck, lingering at the strong steady pulse point at its base. "Is that better?" he murmured, straightening. "I hate making you tense up like this."

Harry's arms came down heavily across Severus' shoulders, his eyes slitted in contentment; he purred as the muscles in his back loosened under Severus' expert ministrations. "Mmmm. Feels good." He raised up slightly and took Severus' lips lightly in what started as a playful kiss that soon turned serious as Severus' needy guilt absorbed the wordless absolution Harry so generously gave him.

His voice low, Harry soothed, "I'm all right. Couldn't be helped. And I remembered more than I ever thought possible; you've always been clever that way." Harry kissed him again. "I love your mouth," he whispered, "and all the things you don't say with it." He pulled back and grinned. "Can't decide which I prefer, your mouth or your hands or your voice--unless it's all of them, of course--on me--at once."

Severus knew Harry was just teasing; there was no arousal pressing against him, nor were his own fires kindled; they were both too weary for such things. His burden lightened by the forgiving banter, Severus evaded the bright understanding in Harry's eyes by pulling him into his arms. Like snuggling into a familiar warm blanket on a cold night, Severus relished the contentment surrounding him. Their embrace intimate and close, Severus did his best to give the same back to him, to make him feel secure and loved in return.

Considering the _Legilimency_ ordeal Harry had just endured, such mutual comfort was sorely needed. It made no difference that Harry had all but bullied him into employing it, their mutual proscription was so deep-seated, so fundamental to their relationship, he'd hated every invasive moment of it.

And as he'd feared, the lengthy session had been brutal despite Harry's cooperation. Perversely, the hazy memory stubbornly resisted his first delicate probings, requiring ever greater and more forceful manipulations before finally surrendering to some semblance of order and clarity. There had been several desperate moments when he'd wanted to end it, his own mind rebelling against the mortifying violation, but Harry's innate ruthlessness unexpectedly held him captive, inexorably refusing them even the smallest respite from their endeavour.

Well, it was done now and recorded, but Harry's heart-rending cries of pain and despair would haunt him forever.

Harry curled his head onto his chest. Severus carded gentle fingers through the soft mop of hair and laid his lips against it, murmuring, "It's been too long; I was clumsy. Does your head still hurt?"

He barely heard Harry's reply, muffled as it was against his robes. "Not really. A small sip of your potion on the bedside table should take care of it just fine."

Severus was loathe to let him go, but his urgent concern made him loosen his hold and step back enough to gently frame Harry's face with his hands, his eyes searching the calm visage for any lingering outward signs of damage. He could see a glint of mild impatience at his fussing in Harry's shadowed eyes, but other than a persistent paleness he seemed fine; there was no hint of the previous pain in his face.

Harry turned his face and kissed the palm of Severus' left hand, taking it and the other hand in his own, his thumbs stroking the tops lightly. "I'm the healer, remember? I'm all right, love. I just need to sleep," he remarked. "Now give me a kiss and I'm off to bed." He dropped one of Severus' hands to cover another jaw-cracking yawn. "Hrrgh. Sorry." He sighed. "So attractive. Must've looked like Saganth inhaling a rat."

Severus chuckled, tenderly wiping off some lingering yawn-tears with his thumbs. "If that was an example of his eating abilities, then I'd say he's graduated to goats." He kissed Harry lightly on the lips. "Will you humour me and take a dose of _Dreamless_ tonight as well? It will be a while before I can join you and I'd work easier knowing you won't be assaulted by what we recalled tonight."

Capitulating gracefully, Harry put his hand on Severus' arm saying, "All right, I'll take a draught, but you're responsible for waking me up tomorrow morning--tea only, mind you." He pointed a finger at him. "Vast quantities of tea, please. I hate your counterpotion--it tastes worse than my mouth in the morning." He grimaced, then grinned unrepentantly.

Severus rolled his eyes. "Would you like crumpets with that, sir?" he asked with a mock bow.

Harry laughed. "No, toast and marmalade will be adequate after the first pot. Now, good night," he finished, giving him a chaste kiss and a firm hug. He smoothed the sleeves of Severus' robe, touched his cheek briefly, and was on his way to the door before Severus could utter another word, calling to Sleave coiled with Saganth by the fire. Bending down, he touched his hand to the floor and the little golden snake quickly climbed up under the cuff of his robe.

He watched Harry's progress with relief, and as soon as the door snicked closed behind him, Severus let his shoulders slump with his own exhaustion. "No rest for the weary--or the wicked in my case, Saganth. Time for the paperwork and the sooner I get to it, the sooner I can go to bed, too." He stretched, bones cracking, his gaping yawn making up for all the ones he'd suppressed earlier in the evening. He moved across the room, gathering from the file room all the forms he still needed to complete. He was so tired, but this needed to be delivered first thing in the morning and he wanted to compose a transcript from the visual record in the memory globes.

Saganth hissed at him from his place by the fire. "I wish I knew what you were saying, but if you're remarking about bloody bureaucrats and their fornicating triplicate, you'd be spot on."

Settling at the head conference table, he made short work of the transmittals then began to carefully record Harry's experience. As the scene coldly unfolded under his pen, he marvelled again at Harry's skill in keeping eight assailants at bay (even if some were much younger with little battle experience) while minimizing the injuries to those around him. Gratifyingly, Severus could name five of them now, all former students ranging in age from twenty to thirty four, none of whom Harry knew very well; the other three he'd not seen beyond the flash of wand _Schema_.

Looking at the names he'd just written, he supposed he shouldn't be surprised that Lance Veni and his shadow, the mastodonic William Plens, had been a part of the assault; he'd always thought 'His Slyness' another Draco-in-training. That Veni, heir to a vast empire founded in the darkest shadows of Knockturn Alley, had apparently led it, did strike him as odd. However, if Lucius' aim was to make it look like a 'harmless' idle-rich-boys' peccadillo gone bad, then perhaps the other participants, all young men of wealthy Slytherin lineage, made a twisted, albeit brilliant sort of sense.

Laying the pen down, he sighed. Twenty years it had taken him and two additional Heads of House to raise the Slytherins' image from the wreckage left by the Dark Lord. Many others from the three remaining houses had been as much involved with Voldemort, yet no one seemed to remember _that_ small detail. Was it Slytherin's fate to always be typecast as the villains? Shaking his head, he filed the rumination away for later debate and resumed his account.

Finally finished, he reread the transcript, making a few minor adjustments to clarify what he'd seen; overall it was an accurate account of Harry's altercation at the station. Ever-increasing in number, these violent incursions against the Muggles caused alarm; perhaps Kingsley and Arthur could add insights to help them stop the conflicts he knew were forthcoming in the near future. He concentrated on ridding himself of the resulting grimness--before he took it to bed with him.

Yawning repeatedly, he called Dobby. When the blinking house-elf appeared with a pop, Severus bit back a laugh, noting the bright blue striped nightshirt and mismatched socks Dobby wore--one lime, the other peach--his head topped by a cherry red sleep cap set crookedly over his dishevelled tufts of wispy white hair. Severus solemnly handed the sheaf of papers and two memory globes over to him. "Dobby, I'm sorry to wake you, but I need these delivered to Kingsley Shacklebolt and the Minister first thing tomorrow morning."

Dobby swallowed a yawn while the items he'd been given disappeared with another pop. "Dobby will deliver the Director's to his office. Does Professor Snape want Dobby to deliver the Minister's at his home or at his office?"

"Hmmm. Good question." He paused, giving it some thought. Arthur's children were long gone from home now; it would be just him and Molly. Severus knew Arthur would show her as well, seeing that she was another member of the Order; he trusted both of their opinions. "Besides keeping it from prying eyes at the Ministry, it will save time in the long run if you deliver it to his home. Just be sure they've had time for their first cup of tea before you arrive. Molly would never forgive me for dumping this on them without the benefit of caffeine and I have no desire to be on the receiving end of one of her Howlers."

Dobby deadpanned, "And Dobby does not want to be on this side should Professor Snape get one of Mrs. Weasley's Howlers because of Dobby."

Severus did laugh then. "I always knew you were a wise elf. Thank you, Dobby, and good night." He was about to dismiss the elf, when he remembered. "Oh! Dobby, I almost forgot. Could you please have the house-elves make sure that Harry is up no later than 8:00 am. Have a large pot of tea ready to hand, followed by some toast and marmalade and a second, smaller pot when he's finished with the first."

Dobby stared at him mischievously. "Is Professor Snape going to be at the Head Table or does the Professor want Dobby to bring the Professor breakfast in bed, too?"

"Cheeky elf! No, 'the Professor' will be dining in the Great Hall--as usual. Harry's had a difficult evening and I made him take a sleeping draught. As he'll refuse the counterpotion, I wish you luck waking him."

"Dobby will ask the snakes to help Dobby wake Harry. The snakes always succeed."

Severus chuckled. "I said wake him, not give him heart failure. Now take your saucy self back to Blinky."

Dobby gave a little smile and a bow before disappearing with his normal soft pop.

Gods, he was tired. "All right, Saganth. Time for us to be off to bed as well." When he didn't hear an answering hiss, he looked around the fireplace and, not seeing the snake, muttered, "Bugger me. Now, I'm talking to an empty room. At least when he's here I _look_ like I'm holding a rational conversation, even if it is a bit one-sided." Shrugging, he was about to douse the lights when he noticed the Pensieve sitting out on the polished slate top of the sideboard under the windows.

"Damn, I forgot about that," he said aloud. Resigned to the delay, he sighed. "I should secure it before I go." He went over to the locked cabinets by the fire circle and, opening the right one, pocketed his wand as he quickly stepped to the sideboard. Eyeing the almost full Pensieve, the shining memories swirling lazily in the magelight, Severus relentlessly squashed the temptation to discover what events had wrought such changes in Harry once he'd removed them. Firm in his resolve not to peek, he carefully picked up the Pensieve, holding it at an angle so he couldn't see the full face of the surface. The contents sloshing gently, he waited until it settled before slowly making his way over to the open cabinet, his eyes never leaving the liquidy, yet clouded, substance where it met the sides of the dark bowl to make sure it didn't spill.

A half-heard, sharp hiss his only warning that he was in trouble, his foot came down on Saganth moving unseen from the seating area to join him. As soon as his weight settled partially on the soft body, he jerked his foot up and away, but it was too late; Saganth was already hopelessly tangled in his feet. Falling hard to the stone floor, he knocked the breath out of him, the Pensieve flying up out of his hands as pain exploded in his head and back. Struggling to hold onto consciousness, a splash of warm liquid hit him full in the face an instant before the heavy stone Pensieve landed on his chest, bruising the sternum and shattering a rib on the rebound.

Gasping now as much from the agonising injury as the lack of air, Severus found himself unable to stop the rushing disorientation as he fell into one of Harry's memories.

Saganth lay still on the floor at his feet.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

"Magister Potter?" The deferential healer, speaking almost in a whisper, was hunched over as if protecting himself, his balding head bobbing slightly as he shifted from foot to foot. He waited a long moment before calling out again, a little louder, but still quietly, "Magister Potter? A moment of your time, if you please." He sighed in resignation as Harry raised a hand indicating he should wait a moment more, his eyes, sans the spectacles of old, scanning the parchment he held.

Severus was in Harry's spartan old office at St. Bartholomew's, which he was in the habit of calling St. Bartie's, a Wizarding teaching hospital just north of York. He was wearing the mark of his profession: heavy red robes--brand new, too, from the looks of them--opened over faded blue jeans, a tatty yellow long-sleeve shirt, and worn grey trainers which had once been white. Severus smiled affectionately when he saw the shirt; they'd discarded it shortly after he'd torn it off his lover when Harry had unexpectedly come home early one afternoon long ago. Horny as hell, he'd been without his wand--he couldn't remember now why--but impatiently shredding the garment to get to the delights underneath had seemed like a good idea at the time. And he didn't recall Harry complaining about the loss of the shirt, either.

Severus found the whole scene surreal because Harry didn't have an office at St. Bartie's anymore, hadn't ever since he'd opened his offices in London. What he was seeing must have taken place right before the move, for he remembered Harry grousing about having to buy the robes for his new position as an instructor there. His hair, free of any silver, confirmed the time frame; Severus was seeing something from nearly a decade ago and he briefly wondered why Harry had felt the need to remove the memory before their session this evening.

His attention was drawn back to the scene in front of him when Harry raised his head from the document he was reading, a slight frown marring his forehead. "I'm sorry to keep you waiting, Jed, but I had to go over these progress notes before I visit Mrs. Riley."

The older healer wrung his hands in distress. "Actually, sir, the director would like to see you right away. He asked me to take care of Mrs. Riley in your stead."

Harry huffed noisily and stood, straightening his robes where they'd twisted in the chair. Obviously annoyed, he reached out and placed his hand on Jed's thin shoulder. "What does the bugger want now? More 'paperwork' I forgot? Another donation? Damn, I am so tired of his little 'summons' while you get stuck with all the work."

"I'm sorry, sir. I don't know what he wants, he just said not to keep him waiting. I did try and warn you."

Harry gave his shoulder a squeeze and then dropped his hand, a rueful smile on his face. "I know you did. Buck up, Jed, you might even get to your real patients later. Here's the Riley woman's chart; I know you'll do fine."

A pleased smile lit the healer's otherwise gloomy face; Severus could see Harry's confidence in him made all the difference in the man's manner and bearing. Gone was the subservient little toad and, if one didn't see the timid side as well, one could well believe him competent. In fact, Severus knew he was, for Jed worked steadily in Harry's clinic even now. Severus shook his head; Harry always had been quicker to see a person's good side than he ever did. He supposed he should be grateful--where would they be if Harry hadn't noticed his?

He watched them exchange a few more comments about 'Mrs. Riley' as Harry passed the patient on to the other Healer. Leaving Jed with more encouragement, Harry walked down a long, straight corridor of chipped white linoleum with dull grey walls devoid of any ornamentation. Hurrying to beat the closing doors, Severus followed Harry into the middle lift of a bank of three and they rode six levels up to the third floor. Severus hadn't realised Harry's old office was in the second sub-basement; he just remembered Harry had disliked it, remarking once that 'A full tin of biscuits has more room.' Considering how tightly a box of Harry's favourite lemon creams was packed, it hadn't recommended it any.

When the creaking lift doors finally opened, they entered a wholly different world filled with dark panelling, thick plush carpets, expensive artwork, and antique furniture. Harry's moue of distaste at such an ostentatious display, after traversing such mean poverty elsewhere, mirrored his own. Turning to the left from obvious habit, Harry strode deeper into the building, down another corridor with panelled doors on either side. The further they travelled, the more wealthy the trappings became until they arrived at a large open area with a domed skylight and a huge half circle desk elevated so that the pert, young witch sitting there could look down on any visitors.

She immediately sat to attention when Harry entered the area; her calculating glance, Severus supposed, could be considered flirtatious if he were a man interested in such things. Harry grinned at her and drew breath to say something, but he never got to finish because she cooed loudly, "Oooo, Magister Potter! _He's_ expecting you." She leaned over the edge of the desk and Severus snorted when Harry lifted a brow at the cleavage displayed not more than an arm's span from his face. Her face avid, she said confidentially, "And he's really brassed-off that you're late. Didn't Jed tell you to hurry?"

"Yes, he did--told me to come at once, but you know how I am." He waved his hands at two doors, one on either side of her desk. "Now Gretchen, tell me--conference room or his office? We mustn't keep him waiting further."

She pouted and sat back in her seat saying, "In his office. You'll have to get past the old battle-axe, though."

Harry chuckled. "I'm sure I will." Without further exchange, Harry moved to the left side of the reception counter, ignoring Gretchen. Judging from the way her eyes followed Harry, Severus guessed she found his husband attractive. He never really thought of things that way--how others perceived Harry's looks. Severus thought him quite fine and it always took him by surprise when others, especially females, sought Harry's attention--even when they knew he was married to another man. He supposed it was the challenge of the thing.

He didn't have any more time to speculate on it because Harry had already opened the door, quickly entering a sumptuous office. The smell of fine leather and beeswax assailed his nose the moment he followed. Done in tasteful greens and creams, the waiting room furniture was Muggle and old. An Old Master painting dominated the wall behind the secretary, an elderly woman with her hair rolled into a severe bun; she looked like an Albus-aged McGonagall. Severus had to laugh. It seemed that Harry had stolen his secretary for the clinic (and soon to be _his_ secretary) from the hospital's Director. Sheila MacDermott--a highly efficient witch even to this day and completely devoted to Harry.

Harry went behind the desk, put a hand on her shoulder and, bending down, kissed her cheek. "How is the 'old battle-axe' feeling this morning?" he asked her with a grin.

"She feels like hexing a certain young bint in the front lobby," she replied with a straight face. "Merlin, I wish he'd start hiring them for _their_ head instead of his."

Harry threw his head back and laughed, his shoulders moving in his mirth. "Ah, Sheila, you know much I love you. Any idea what the old sod wants from me--this time?"

Her face suddenly serious, she leaned over to him, saying so quietly Severus had to step closer to hear, "I don't know, but he's in a right snit and the Owls have been flying since last night. It's something important, though; he's been jumpy all morning. Near snapped my head off earlier when--"

She stopped, stood quickly, and was around the desk at the office door handle saying, "Right this way, Magister Potter, he's expecting you," just as the door popped open and a balding, middle aged man barked, "Sheila, are you sure you told Jed--" When he spied Harry, his face hardened as he said, "Oh, it's you, Potter. Come on in, then, there's no time to waste."

Harry looked back at Sheila as he followed the director into his office, giving her a huge wink before going through the opening. After one admiring glance at her wicked smile, Severus hastily followed.

By the time he entered, the director, fussing with his starchy, dark blue robes was already seated behind his massive desk. As a connoisseur of antiques, Severus was impressed at the quality of the heavy Italian baroque piece. He also knew this particular style, from the early 1700's, had been popular with the Nazis; very few had been recovered after the war and he wondered how Colch had managed to get his hands on such a fine, but probably illegal bit of the past. The high-backed, ornate chair Harry had settled in was of the same period; from the way he was wriggling, it was less comfortable than it looked. Or, given that Sleave emerged, growling softly, from under the folded cuff of Harry's robe to lay her head on the back of his hand, perhaps Harry was just restive.

"We've no time to waste," Colch began without preamble. "Our client will be arriving any minute and I want to make sure we're there to greet the family and the consultant they've brought."

"Client?" Harry asked. "You mean patient?" While he was examining a short, squat _armoire_ behind the director, Severus looked up sharply; Harry's tone precisely matched his wary expression.

In an off-handed manner belying his previous urgency, Colch said breezily, "Client, patient, what's the difference? They've paid for the privilege of privacy and specifically asked for you. The fee is quite handsome for both your work and your discretion."

"Me? They want me? For what?" Harry asked. His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Even now my skills are not that well known, and certainly not publicly, so why me? Or did you suggest it?"

Colch held up his hands in protest. "No, no, I said nothing. They were, however, quite specific about it being you; they asked for you by name. Seems the consultant they have knows your reputation; I suppose he's the one who suggested you."

Relaxing a bit, Harry asked reasonably, "Who is he?"

"Haven't a clue, but they've assured me he's a 'specialist' of some renown," Colch said rapidly, perhaps too so; Severus stood close to him, studying his face.

Eyeing the single trickle of sweat trailing down the director's temple, Severus thought, _'He's lying.'_ Judging from the barely disguised disgust Harry levelled at the man, he thought the same thing, and Severus was filled with the odd, almost burning sensation of Harry detecting a lie. He'd known Harry's haphazard empathic abilities gave him some advantage in matters of this kind at times, but he'd never actually experienced it.

"'Specialist'," Harry stated flatly. The uneasiness emanated from Harry in almost palpable waves. "What kind of 'specialist'?" he asked abruptly. "Healer or other?" Severus could almost hear his side thought, 'And did it wear a Dark Mark at some time or other?'

Looking at the grandfather clock standing in the back corner of the room behind Harry, Colch said, "I assure you, they didn't say, but I'm quite certain he is as they say he is or they wouldn't have retained him." He stood from his chair. "Now, we must be off if we're to get there in time. Come with me."

"Hold on, Colch. I want some answers," Harry insisted, a small smile on his lips at the grimace the director made when Harry used his bare surname. "Just who is this 'client'? And what's wrong with the patient? It just won't do for me to walk into this totally unprepared. Are there charts? A history at least?"

"I've little information, _Magister Potter_," he said, the name a sneer on his lips. "Afraid you won't be up to snuff, _sir_?"

Harry laughed. "Hardly. Nice try, though. I'll go nowhere until I have more information, _Colch_." He folded his arms and sat back in the chair. Severus almost cheered and then remembered they couldn't see him.

The director looked to the side, obviously undecided. Finally he said, reluctantly, "All I know is that it's a woman, around 25 years of age who's unconscious and having some difficulties with a pregnancy after she was cursed; they fear for both her and the babe. The curse has been broken; they want _you_ to stabilise her. The family has requested their name be withheld for privacy's sake and I've agreed, but I can assure you they're an old and esteemed line." He sighed. "Satisfied?"

Harry's face was a study of weary confusion. "No, but if it is as you say, I don't see how I can help them. I have little to no practical experience with prenatal cases." This was news to Severus; he knew Harry had worked on several cases, but when he thought about it, they were all in the last ten years. Perhaps this had been one of his first and that's why he'd removed the memory; perhaps this was one of his losses, or maybe the client was exactly as Colch had described her--of good family and in trouble.

Colch held up his hands as if defending himself. "I know, I know. And I _told_ them that," he said placatingly. "Evidently the babe is the responsibility of the 'specialist'; they want you to take care of the mother. You _have_ worked in tandem before, yes?"

Harry sighed. "Yes, I have. But that does not mean I will work with no further information."

Triumphant, Colch declared, "While I _was_ trying to avoid it, must I remind you of your contract with this establishment? I don't believe you have many options here."

Harry grimaced, his shoulders slumping as he stood. "Only ten more days, _Colch_. Then I am free of you." He cocked his head when Colch chuckled softly, invoking the terms of their 'contract' with a muttered spell. "Well, it seems I've no choice but to help." The 'damn you' was implied, but left unspoken. Severus could understand this very well. Even now Harry hated to work blind and, given what he did and the risks he took, Severus agreed he should at least be given the choice.

Severus had suspected at the time that the compulsion to work under contracts, more than anything else, was why Harry had gone out on his own; this potential misuse of his talents and the twisting of what was probably an innocent agreement just confirmed it. Harry's skills were not a right to be bestowed upon just anyone who wanted it. After all, it was more than his life at stake and Severus knew Harry was ever mindful of the consequences should he fail. The whole situation was making him as nervous as Harry obviously was, although he was couching it well in seeming reluctance.

Beaming, Colch said, "Good. I'm glad we finally understand each other. It may be ten days, as you say, but that's ten days from _now_ and until then..." He let the threat hang in the air between them. "Now, let's be off. We're very late." He moved away from the desk at a brisk pace, Harry following slower. When they passed through MacDermott's lair, he barely registered the worried look she threw him.

Severus knew exactly how she felt.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

To be continued...


	2. The Sacred and the Profane

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line

**Part II : The Sacred and the Profane  
****13 February 2023**

Saganth roused. He hurt. Raising his head off the floor, several quick flickers of his tongue told him he was alone with his master, but his eyes detected no movement in the body laying near him. He ran a careful, exploratory shimmy down his length. To his considerable relief, he determined that, while his midsection was deeply bruised, he'd not been crushed. He tentatively moved from his position at his master's feet. Finding he could undulate reasonably well, if a bit crookedly, he flicked his tongue in and out again, tasting the air. The first thing he noticed was the room's warmth, the second that his master, still lying unmoving on the floor, was also hurt and in some distress.

Slithering up to his master's face, his fitful tongue tasted the thick, sharp tang of fresh blood redolent in the air. He drew back, hissing his displeasure at the bitter aftertaste coming from the fine filaments covering the Master's face, shoulders, and the floor around them. He could sense more than see the restive movement of the strands and instinctively knew he must stay clear of them; they smelled dangerous. And if they were bad for him, they must be bad for his master.

Saganth was a simple creature with a simple mind and, under other circumstances, he might have been wrong, but from the sheer number of filaments covering Snape, it was indeed dangerous for any skilled Legilimens to be exposed to so many memories at once. Saganth, however, only knew his master needed help and the master's mate would be the best help, but he'd already left with Sister. Well, he would just have to fetch him, then. Determined, he moved onto the charmed stone flags forming his normal path through what the humans called 'The Office' and, as fast as his bruised condition would allow, traversed the stone's tingling warmth to the door the master's mate had used not so long ago. Each undulation a bit more difficult than the last, Saganth slid through the portal in the doorway as he passed from The Office to The Nest and Home.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

**2013**

Harry and Colch travelled to an unused wing of the hospital. The director put his hand on a circular plate on the wall with a muttered spell. After a few moment's wait, a red viscous blob came out of the edges, covering his hand. The lock glowed and, with a bell-like sound, the doors before them clicked and opened onto a deserted corridor. Given the nature of the lock and the colour of its matrix, one usually warning of unsafe places, the passage was as nasty as Severus had half-expected. Forgetting for the moment that this was a memory, he carefully stepped around several large standing puddles of brackish water reflecting the smoky light of the torches lining the sides. Water dripped from the ceiling, sliding cold down the darkened stone faces of walls covered in an unhealthy looking orange mould; death mould it was called, foul and poisonous if ingested. It reminded Severus of the Hogwarts dungeons before he'd taken them over.

"Where is this place?" Harry asked, looking around him with repugnance. "We're no longer in the hospital, are we?"

His footsteps echoing down the hall, Colch hesitated before replying, "Not this part, no. It's a Wizarding Space connection to the oldest part of the hospital."

With a thoughtful pause, Harry remarked, "I thought that wing had suffered irreparable damage during the war and was taken down."

"Most of it was removed," Colch replied, "but we were warned by the Augurs that the end section we are about to enter, the one with the cornerstone, needed to remain for the hospital's continuing good fortune." He dodged a weeping section of the stone ceiling. "Since the wing is now hidden from sight, and everyone assumes, as you did, that it's gone, we use it for our more... reclusive clients who are willing to spend a few extra Galleons for the privacy it affords."

Harry snorted even as Severus did. "One would think that if this is the portal for the 'paying guests', one would have taken care to make it a bit more hospitable."

Colch chuckled. "One might, one supposes, if one did not have to deal with young Medi-witches and Healers bent on out-of-the-way places for some 'practical' anatomy lessons." At Harry's unexpected laughter, Colch smiled. "We made it this way to keep 'biology' in the classroom."

Even Severus had to admit it was humorous, which just made him suspect that someone else had thought it up; Colch just didn't strike him as the double entendre 'type', not that he was maligning his intelligence or anything. He snickered when Harry muttered to himself, "Good point, but classroom anatomy can be 'intimately' learned below the desk as much as above it."

"Eh, what's that?" Colch asked, turning to look at the healer, his face scrunched up in confusion.

"Ah, I said I see your point. The classroom is the _proper_ place for such study..." Severus laughed outright at Colch's raised brow of puzzlement, which only served to confirm his earlier theory that the Director was a humourless twit; however, as he well knew, Harry was not hampered by any such infirmity.

The light banter stopped abruptly when they neared the end of the hallway. Placing his hand on an identical lock plate, the green ooze indicating safer passage beyond, Colch once again requested entrance. While waiting, he added, "Besides, the paying guests use a different, concealed entrance; only the staff use this corridor."

Standing behind Colch, Harry nodded thoughtfully, the question in his eyes matching Severus' own: just how often was this corridor used, and why had he not heard of it before?

When cleared, a hidden door opened automatically and they stepped into a plain corridor similar to the other patient floors in the main hospital. Clean, impersonal, and empty, the only thing missing was the normally pervasive antiseptic odor. Instead, it smelled of lavender, fresh and green, like one would find in a field in the early morning.

Severus pulled himself out of his own memories of his mother when Harry and the Director moved away.

Further down the hall, the early morning light filtered through a glass wall capping the end. Two doors down from the curtainless window with its view of a forest beyond, Colch stopped at a pair of ornately carved doors. Measuring them with his eyes, Severus suspected the opening, with both doors open, would be wide enough to admit a levitated patient side by side with an attendant and still leave room to spare. However, he never got to confirm it as Colch opened only one of them, walking quietly into a dimly lit room.

"Damn it," Colch muttered. "We missed them; she's already here. And where's that orderly they promised?" With a muttered spell, harsh white lights illuminated the space.

Right behind him, Harry took several steps into the room and stopped cold. Although he knew he'd go right through him if he'd kept going, habit made Severus move quickly to the side.

It didn't take but an instant to see _why_ Harry wasn't moving. Lying on a narrow bed was a woman, obviously pregnant, whose distended abdomen seemed huge compared to her severe emaciation. _'More like a husk, really,'_ he thought, staring at the bones and sinew clearly defined beneath the thin material of her reasonably clean, long-sleeved gown. Her age was hard to tell at this distance, although she looked ancient, and he found himself following Harry as he slowly approached the bed.

There was no improvement with a closer inspection. Her skin, which had appeared to be carved from ivory at first glance, was actually the palest yellow. Parched, it lay in loose, fine wrinkles on her hands and face as if at one time, she had been firmly slender but had since been desiccated like an unwrapped mummy--except for her breasts and stomach, both of which were plump mounds. If he watched long enough, he could see the feeble movements of the child within her through the thin cotton robe, which at first glance, he'd mistaken for a gown of some sort. Her hair, which had not seen soap in quite some time, spread in long snarls along the pillow where it escaped from the loose bun atop her head. It was hard to tell the original colour, chestnut maybe, but there was no mistaking the grey shot throughout. If she was young, she'd led a hard life, but given her dainty bone structure, she'd once been beautiful.

Harry reached out and gently pinched a small amount of skin on her hand, quickly removing his fingers. The flesh remained tented for a long moment before slowly settling back into its original slack form, although Severus could clearly see where Harry had touched her. "Severely dehydrated," Harry murmured, his hand smoothing her skin back. A wave of his hand dimming the overhead lights, he next muttered, "_Mico Orbis,_" and a small ball of bright light hovered over her; he directed it to her face and gingerly peeled her upper lip towards the remnant of her small nose. While the teeth were starkly white, even and healthy, the pale, receded gums exposed the dentil. Releasing her lip, Harry shook his head as if he'd expected it. After directing the light with a nudge of his finger and a whispered command to hover a few inches above her eyes, Harry gently pushed an eyelid open and released it. He did this several times to both eyes, waiting patiently as the lids took their time closing, the lush lashes stark against her colourless cheeks. Severus supposed this one thing, more than any other, angered him the most. Her cheeks should be rosy, damn it! Harry noted quietly to himself, "Pupils unresponsive."

Stiffening, as if steeling himself for some terrible ordeal, which Severus supposed it might be, Harry released the ties on the robe to expose the woman's breasts and stomach. Severus didn't know what he'd been expecting, but the glow of healthy pink skin, running from just above her swollen breasts to the tops of her thighs, seemed almost obscene in light of the rest of her body: plump health withered to shrivelled devastation. With so much time separating him from a past once filled with such stark dichotomies, Severus swallowed hard against the once-familiar, burning queasiness, marvelling at Harry's apparent control; only a small bunching of muscle at his lower jaw gave any indication of the fury Severus knew he must be feeling.

Displaying his first sign of hesitancy, Harry stretched his arms out over her abdomen; by the movements of his hands and a faint stir of magic, Harry quickly defined the area of the magic sustaining her. Ignoring the faint sparks flying as he entered the protected area, his fingers barely skimmed the surface of her moist but translucent skin. A lump, looking suspiciously like a foot, followed his light touch as if seeking contact. With a shudder so small, Severus almost missed it, Harry closed his eyes and gently lowered his hands until the palms lay flat against the mound. He held them there for some small time, murmuring words in Greek, the baby lying quiet under his hands. Slowly, his eyes opened and, moving slightly to shield the view from Colch, Harry tenderly caressed the bumps under the skin before removing his hands. He dropped them to his sides and stood a few moments deep in thought.

Murmuring, "_Nox_," the diagnostic light went out and Harry turned to stare at Colch, who was standing behind and to the side where he could see what Harry was doing without getting in the way. His voice devoid of emotion, yet brittle and hard, Harry reported quietly, "The baby, who appears to be about six months in gestational age, seems fairly healthy and active, the mother obviously less so; in fact--" he cleared his throat "--I'm surprised she's alive at all." He gestured over her stomach. "I can't read the baby very well, though. Most of what I 'know' is deduced from touch alone; whoever set up the spells sustaining the mother has blocked the child from other healers." His brows drew together. "You wouldn't know anything about that either, would you?" Harry asked with irritated sarcasm.

The director shook his head. "No, but I would assume the specialist has placed the blocks so his customised spells can't be duplicated without his consent." As Harry's eyebrows flattened, he hastily added, "Not that anyone would think _you_ would take something of that nature; your reputation alone would negate _any_ such thought. It's more than likely a generic protection." He eyed Harry with trepidation; Severus could see Harry wasn't going to let him off the hook so easily.

"They're Dark," he stated flatly.

Colch harumphed, seemingly back on solid ground. "Of course they're Dark. Light magic has nothing similar to his technique." He straightened, saying briskly, "And the baby is no concern of yours. _Your_ task is with the mother. I suggest you get on with it."

Severus shivered at the _look_ on Harry's face; it was one worth remembering, for he'd last worn it when he'd confronted Voldemort the final time nearly twenty-five years ago. Narrowed green eyes spit a barely banked fire of their own; his mouth formed a cold, hard line over a set jaw. Implacable. Determined. _Dangerous_. Severus wondered if the director knew how close he was to annihilation. Perhaps this was why Harry had set the memory aside; he'd killed the director and wanted no witnesses. Severus shook his head at his own dark humour and dismissed the thought as impossible--at least for Harry.

Colch swallowed, but surprisingly stood firm. "The mother?" he asked, holding his hand out in invitation.

Muscle by muscle Severus could see Harry force himself to relax, but in the end he seemed unable to completely douse the fire in his eyes. His movements crisp, Harry turned on his heel and moved to stand at the head of the pallet. Taking several deep, calming breaths, he closed his eyes and unerringly placed his unflinching hands on the woman's temples under her greasy hair. He'd no more murmured the first few diagnostic spells when he snatched his hands back, wiping them unconsciously on his jeans. The fire was back; he turned to Colch and said in a deadly, quiet voice, "Who did this to her?"

Colch drew himself up to his full height, which still left him shorter by several inches. "Who is responsible is unimportant to this effort."

"I think it's very relevant as it's my life you may be risking--not to mention that the _Coactum_ _Curse_ used to do this type of damage will get the practitioner sent to Azkaban for life. This woman is far beyond my ability to help; to go any further is dangerous to us both and could very well kill her." He glanced back at the bed, his expression troubled. He murmured, "Although that might be the kindest thing in the end."

"That's understood and why you've been brought in. Her primary Healer informed her family yesterday that he could do nothing more for her; they need a specialist to continue her care. You, specifically, were requested. The family is under the impression you had cured someone with this curse before. Besides, it's not the woman they're interested in, it's the child."

Harry's lip curled in disgust. "You _must_ be joking."

Severus recognised his own intonations in those words and thus knew exactly what Harry meant; the baby was probably as far gone as the mother. Severus was thinking fast, as he was sure Harry was, too. A _Coactum Curse_--the same one used on Perrin his first year at Hogwarts. Its use meant the 'client' had probably been a high-ranking Death Eater at one point, part of the inner circle. That they 'knew' Harry had previously cured someone of its effects implied the involvement of a Malfoy, or possibly Perrin's stepfather, Tony Mendino, who had cast it on the boy. No one else could have known otherwise. Colch's next words drew him from his introspection.

"All you need do, Potter, is keep the mother alive long enough for someone else to deliver the child."

Harry was outraged. "Let me see if I have this straight. You want me to keep this woman--now a _Revenant--_alive so this, as yet unnamed, 'specialist' can deliver a child who probably won't live the night?" When Colch nodded, Harry took a deep breath and continued, "The baby is far too young, it will never survive."

The smile Colch gave him reminded Severus of an alligator he'd once seen in a Muggle zoo when he and Harry had made one of their rare excursions into London. The only thing missing was the sharp, tearing teeth and Severus had no doubt they were in there somewhere. In a condescending tone Colch replied, "Now there's where you're wrong, _young_ Harry." He slicked his hair back from his sweaty forehead, his face pale despite his bravado. "Magister Stenman, who should be here any moment now, has made a breakthrough in keeping infants of this gestational age alive; his success rate has been astounding."

Harry stiffened at the name, his face going pale, his lip curled in disgust at the magnitude of Colch's deceit. Clearly about to refuse, he closed his mouth when there came the sound of rapid footsteps in the hallway; it was too late. As the handle on the door moved, they both turned to see the man who stepped through the opening. Harry bared his teeth for a second before his face went completely neutral.

Severus paid keen attention; so he was finally going to 'meet' the one human being Harry loathed more than the Malfoys. He had no doubt that had Harry known beforehand who the 'specialist' was, he would have refused, contract or no. Severus remembered Harry once telling him that Stenman, who he'd had to concede was a brilliant clinician, nevertheless 'felt' like something ancient that should never have been allowed to ooze out of the Primordial muck. He was--how had Harry put it?--'an embodiment of an old evil from before time'. And, after his first look at the handsome, almost beautiful man entering the room, with his black hair and familiar patrician features, Severus could understand in full why his husband thought so. His own canines bared, he felt the frisson of an old enmity work its way down his spine, for before him was an old nemesis, a former Death Eater, one with whom he'd refused to associate, even at the price of his own blood.

Severus knew immediately from his years with Harry that he was terrified in a wary way and determined in another. It was obvious he was aware of the danger Stenman represented. Even in a memory he could feel Harry's powerful shield firmly in place and he lauded his caution, remembering with perfect clarity his own encounters with the man and his 'research'.

He'd obviously changed his name, or perhaps it had always been Stenman, but to Severus and the others of the inner circle he'd only been known as Voldemort's unswerving devotee--his "Pet"--the ingenious psychopath who'd perfected the techniques to nurture the rare Gobbelworms in a human host. Consistently avoided by all but a few chosen disciples, the Pet had enjoyed a privileged place in the Dark Lord's hierarchy.

Severus shuddered, remembering the first time he'd seen one of the worms 'born'. A sharp set of mandibles like that of a preying mantis had ripped through the abdomen of a Muggle man, followed by a body which resembled a slick slug the size of a Kneazle. Once 'born', the greenish grey worm oozed a thin orange slime that sealed all bleeding and for several days afterward, it would feed on the host until he or she was consumed. Of course, part of Stenman's 'technique' had been the sustaining spells keeping the victims alive as the worms feasted. Because he'd claimed it 'wouldn't do to upset the babies', silencing spells were employed to quiet their screams, their lower faces blanked because the Pet grew bored with their never-ending, silent rictus of agony. Once the host eventually died, and Severus had always been amazed how long they'd held on, the mature worms were 'harvested' in a variety of rites for several of the darkest potions.

Refusing to touch the gods-forsaken creatures, let alone assist in brewing the potions requiring them, had earned him several sessions with Avery's "Lady"; he didn't yield on the issue. Lucius had watched from the sidelines, his silent approval the only positive thing remaining between them. Deeply disappointed with his then protégé, Voldemort finally called a halt to Avery's ministrations when Severus proved intractable to even the Dark Lord's personal 'persuasion', saying that if the coward didn't want the privilege, there were sufficient others who would.

Severus smiled grimly to himself; he'd only made two good decisions his seventeenth year, this being one of them. Even though he was still paying the price of his refusal to this day, he couldn't regret it. The years of reparative abuse he'd suffered at Voldemort's hands to regain the trust lost from the incident had been relatively easy to endure in light of the alternative--the irrefutable loss of his soul. Nor could he gainsay his other decision when two weeks later, barely healed physically from Voldemort's 'attention' and curse, he'd embarked on his convoluted, double-edged career with Dumbledore.

Coming back to the scene in front of him, Severus could sense the stalemate before he actually saw it. Stenman leant casually against the footboard of the mother's bed, staring hard at Harry through cold eyes the colour of dark topaz. Oblivious to the impasse, two orderlies wrestled into the room a large piece of furniture, much like a cot, but open with no front rails. Severus could feel the dormant magic around it much like the stasis spells the Pet had once used to immobilise the Muggle victims in his earlier work. So he intended to use an extension of that research to keep the infant alive? It made perverse sense to Severus; out of such evil something potentially good was made. He sighed fatalistically. Such was the nature of the Dark Arts.

His attention riveted on the other man, Harry stood straight and tall from his position at the woman's head, his eyes blazing. Given his white knuckled grip, Severus was certain the short headboard would have snapped had the wood been any thinner. As it was, the muscle again jumped in Harry's jaw and Severus began to get concerned that Harry would be unable to centre himself enough to do his work with the concentration it surely would require.

After several minutes of taut silence, broken only by the sounds of metal against metal and the occasional soft grunts of the orderlies moving the cot about, the tiny bed rested tucked up tight against the foot of the woman's bed. As the orderlies silently departed, Severus' attention was irresistibly drawn to the graceful flip of Stenman's elegant hands dismissing them. Fascinated despite himself, he idly thought it just wasn't right that such foulness could look so fair. His full, red magisterial robe shimmering in the light, Stenman even yawned and stretched gracefully.

Severus turned back to his spouse, studying the well-loved face from so long ago, a face and presence that had changed little as he'd matured, but had grown dearer to him in that time. Stenman might be handsome and well-favoured, but his Harry easily outshone him.

Stenman's movement drew him out of his reverie again. Straightening, his arms folded loosely across his chest, he dipped his head, saying, "Magister Potter," his very tone an insult.

Glaring, Harry didn't move. "Magister Stenman," he said coldly, the inflection as sharp as a knife.

Stenman chuckled softly and drawled, "My, the little cub has teeth." Then in a crisper tone, he added, "We've not much time. I assume you know what to do. Are you ready, _Magister_?"

Harry nodded tersely and both men moved into their respective places. Harry remained at the head of the bed and extended his arms over the woman's head, his hands poised to reach her temples. Severus was rather proud of Harry's calm demeanor; the fine stress lines around Harry's eyes and his unusual pallor, both of which were seen through the eyes of daily intimacy, were the only outward signs he exhibited of his prudent circumspection.

Stenman nonchalantly stepped to the patient's side, his hands hovering over her bare abdomen. Nodding their readiness to each other, both men's eyes began to close, Stenman staring blankly into the wall in front of him, a sure sign to Severus' mind that he didn't consider Harry much of a threat.

Severus thought this a very stupid assumption for anyone to make about Harry. Granted, his spouse did have an inconvenient reputation for gentleness which, to a dark wizard like Stenman, would make him appear weak; certainly not someone he would normally consider 'a threat'. However, given the very nature of Harry's defences, supported as they were by his well-hidden abilities, combined with his not-so-well-known temper, Stenman might just receive an unpleasant surprise. The very thought made Severus grin.

He approved as Harry's lids fell a heartbeat behind Stenman's, his distrustful attention focussed on the other healer. His frowning face smoothed only when Stenman committed them with a softly intoned, "Alpha," which Severus vaguely remembered as the invocation of a shared healing, the speaker calling the lead position. With Harry's murmured assent, his _Sanos_ rang clearly over Stenman's muddier tone, and their hands descended in unison.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	3. Crossing the Line

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line

**Part III : Crossing the Line  
****13 February 2023** (Continued)

From long habit, Saganth hesitated at the foot of the ramp, his flickering tongue testing the air around him for hidden dangers. There were few remaining, but in the days of his father, Horatio, _may his way be paved in sunshine,_ the cold stone floors had proved lethal to some of his nesting rivals as it quickly drained a hatchling's heat. Although his master had warmed the floor, his sister still had an impossible time moving from place to place, even in the summer. Of course, the problem had disappeared when the master's mate had taken her as his very own; Saganth thought them a good match.

Giving a shimmy, Saganth chastised himself; such thoughts, while pleasant, were not going to help _his_ master. A quick scan with both eyes and tongue told him the paths were clear; the master's mate had passed through at least a moon's width ago. He moved along the enchanted path circumventing the Round Place and passed through another portal to the Sleeping Place. Nearing the bed, he could hear Sleave singing a soft Sleeping Song to her master; she always took such good care of him.

Although he was not nearly as long or as thick as his sire, the bed's height rarely posed an obstacle to Saganth and normally he could just climb directly up the side. But tonight he hurt too much for such a feat and instead climbed up a small stool at the foot of the bed which his master sometimes used to reach the curtain rings when they got caught. Once his bruised section cleared the top, he hissed, _Sssissster? Isss your Massster sssleeping yet?_

Out of a flat-bottomed, bag-like warming pillow hanging on the side of the headboard, Sleave's tiny head poked out of a slit near the bottom corner to stare at him. _Of courssse he isss, Brother. I have been sssinging my Sssleeping Sssong to him. Why doesss you asssk?_

Saganth made his way over to her; he stretched and she extended until their snouts touched. _Sssomething bad hasss happened to my Massster. He isss hurt and there isss blood and sssomething elssse I've never tasssted before, but it isss not good. We mussst wakesss my massster'sss mate. He will know what to do to helpsss my Massster._

_You will needsss to wakesss him. He drank the Sssleeping Watersss. You know how hardsss he isss to wakesss when he drinksss it._

_He isss not easssy to wakesss even when he doesss not take the Sssleeping Watersss,_ Saganth grumbled.

Sleave hissed in laughter. _You ssspeaksss like a Blue Sssky. You knowsss what to do. I will try sssinging to him the Waking Sssong._

Saganth prepared to burrow under the covers, grousing as he went, _What I wantsss to know isss how comesss you getsss all the easssy thingsss while I getsss all the hard thingsss. He will probably kick me again and my sssidesss are already ssso sssore..._

His voice muffled the farther he went under until Sleave couldn't hear him anymore. She depended from her bag until she was right at Harry's ear. It wasn't really singing, but it wasn't speaking either, her words slurring one into the next making an almost humming noise. _Wakesss-Up-Sssnakesss-Persssonsss--The-Day-Isss-Fine--The-Sssunsss-Warmsss-The-Ssstonesss--The-Grasssesss-Are-Moissst--It-Isss-Time-To-Ssslither-Through-The-Morning--_

Harry twitched and rubbed at his ear when her long tongue flicked out, tickling the sensitive shell. She paused, eyeing the moving mound under the covers near Harry's feet. Judging the moment right, she pulled back into the bag quickly just as Harry sat bolt upright throwing the covers off the bed, Saganth in them, with a screamed, "What the fuck!" Panting, his eyes wild and staring, he conjured a light and pulled his foot up where he could see it. There on the Achilles tendon was a neat row of small bite marks. Raising his voice, his hands rubbing the stinging area, he called out, _Sssaganth, may chiggersss infessst your nessst, thisss had better be important!_

Saganth was really too far away for Harry to hear him, so while he made his way up the bed again, Sleave dropped out of the bag onto Harry's pillow and, scales extended, climbed rapidly up Harry's back to rest on his shoulder, her face near his ear. _Ssso sssorry, Massster, to disssturbsss your ssslumber. Brother sssaysss that his Massster is hurt and needsss your helpsss._

Harry turned his head, drawing it back to look at her. _What? Ssseverusss isss hurt? How? Where?_ He turned his head away and said loudly, _Sssaganth, where in the Dead Grasssesss are you?_

_You doesss not have to ssshoutsss--I am right here, Massster'sss Mate,_ Saganth hissed quietly near Harry's hand.

Looking him over, Harry noticed the heavy contusions and swelling of the snake's hide halfway down his slender body. Placing his hands over the area, but not touching it, his quickly spoken spell cleared the bruising; Saganth hissed a snake sigh of relief. _You were hurtsss, too, Sssaganth. What happened?_

Saganth looked away from Harry. He was ashamed and fully expected to be punished. He lowered his head submissively and hissed, _Thisss ssstupid one isss very sssorry he wasss not watching where he wasss going and the Massster ssstepped on him in The Officcce. The Massster fell on the floor and a big hollow ssstone fell on him ssspilling sssilver watersss on him. There isss blood on hisss head and the sssilver watersss all over hisss upper half tassstesss bad. Thisss sssnake thinksss the sssilver watersss isss hurting the Massster asss much asss the floor hitting hisss head._

Harry thought over Saganth's words trying to filter through his potion-fogged brain what the snake could possibly mean by his words. Finally, it dawned on him what Saganth might be talking about. _Sssaganth, wasss the hollow ssstone black?_ Still not looking at him, Saganth bobbed his head up and down; Harry knew this was a yes. _Look at me, Loyal One. It wasss a missstake, I know you did not do it on purpossse._ With a start of surprise, Saganth swiveled his head over to look at Harry. _Young One, did the sssilver watersss move, like wormsss trapped outssside their homesss?_

_Yesss._

"Shit! The Pensieve!" Harry gasped as he rolled out of the bed, Sleave wrapping her tail around his ear. Throwing on his dressing gown, he tore out of the bedchamber. As he pounded across the rotunda to the ramp to Severus' office, he kept muttering, "Damn, damn, damn!"

Sleave, her tail still hooked on his ear, manoeuvred until she was wrapped around his throat, tight enough to hold on and let him know she was still there, but not enough to choke him. In Parseltongue, he told her to get clear of him when they got there as the 'silver waters' would be deadly to her. She hissed her understanding and prepared to quickly move away.

Bursting into the office with a shouted spell, Harry rushed to where Severus lay unmoving on the floor halfway between the sideboard and the seating group. He knelt by him, assessing the situation, vaguely aware of Sleave slithering down his back. A wide pool of blood under his head, Severus' upper body was densely covered in Harry's memories, his face paler than the filaments layering it. Finding a clear spot on one of his temples, Harry placed shaking fingers there, quickly feeling his way around. The initial panic subsiding, he blew a heavy sigh of relief; Severus had not been seriously injured.

Sitting back on his heels, Harry mentally catalogued the damage. Superficial, the cut on the back of Severus' head had already stopped bleeding on its own; there were no signs of concussion, either. Although he thought Severus had merely had the breath knocked out of him, his laboured breathing might be caused by the nasty break in one of his ribs, which Harry assumed came from the Pensieve itself. The multiple contusions on his back and sternum, however, were minor. A simple spell healed the cut, others the bruising of bone and muscle, still more knit the rib. Severus would be fine with some rest.

With Severus at least healed physically, Harry knew the next order of business was to retrieve his memories and get them back into the Pensieve. Even knowing he probably couldn't afford to lose even one, he would gladly forsake them all if it was in Severus' best interests to do so. Righting the Pensieve and using his wand, Harry picked up the strands one by one, placing them back into the bowl, each seemingly intact; he felt a strong sense of relief he would not be missing them--assuming they were still viable, of course.

He was about to pick a large clump off of Severus' nose when he sensed it was active; Severus was already experiencing it. Harry paused, not knowing whether it would hurt a _Legilimens_ or not to remove it prematurely. Seeing that it appeared to be stable and wasn't harming Severus for the moment, he decided to leave it where it was and finished retrieving as many of the others as he could find scattered across the floor.

While he'd been working on Severus, Saganth slid into the room. Sleave was there to greet him at the warm Fire Place and they rubbed noses, their tongues flicking out as much to taste each other as to smell the air around them.

_Will my Massster be all rightsss, Sssissster?_ Saganth asked in a small hiss.

_I thinksss ssso, Brother. My Massster knowsss what to do,_ she answered him softly.

_Thisss one hopesss it isss ssso,_ he replied, downhearted.

Sleave hissed in sympathy and, spiralling herself snugly around his body as he coiled, she placed her head on top of his, purring in comfort, and they both settled down to wait.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

**2013**

This was _Sanos_ magic like nothing he'd ever seen before. For one, he was following it _with_ Harry; he was unsure whether this was because of his own _Sanos_ abilities or his link through the memory--he suspected both. For another, Harry was not just using the _Sanos_ magic, he was _changing_ it, bending the rules as he went along to fit the situations as he found them. Which, as far as Severus could fathom, was a very good skill to have, for the woman they traversed was actively dying. And Harry was barely staying ahead of her.

When they'd first plunged in, Severus travelling right beside Harry, instead of the neat orderly pathways one normally found, they were tossed about in a maelstrom of blind chaos. With a rapid series of spells, felt more than heard, Harry soon had it under better control, slowing their progress like a well-applied set of brakes on a runaway wagon. However, that did nothing to dispel the disorder.

Severus had never been _inside_ a _Revenant_ before. Oh, he knew potions to help sustain one, even potions to make one, but that knowledge did not prepare him for the sheer devastation the loss of a mind caused within a living body. He'd always supposed it was more about a loss of intelligence, although he also knew that, over time, a _Revenant_ slowly died as the brain lost even its ability to sustain life itself. Based on what he thought he was seeing, this woman should have 'died' naturally several weeks ago. Only through a complex network of spells was she even breathing. He could almost admire the someone whose genius sustained her balance like this, dead but still alive, if he hadn't also guessed who that someone had to be.

Stenman. The stink of his magic assailed them at every turn.

And while amazing, the network was inexorably failing as if it had reached the end of its expected life span, and given Stenman's previous research, it might very well have been planned for a specific time frame. One just long enough to grow the baby to the right gestational age so the child could live outside of its dying mother. Despite his scientific curiosity, his strong moral core rebelled at the thought of such callousness--on so many levels--it made his blood boil. He knew Harry was just as appalled by what they'd found. He could _feel_ his angry frustration, but Harry was also professional enough to ignore it for the moment.

But why Harry?

There were other Healers, better versed in the Dark Arts, perfectly capable of maintaining the network for Stenman while he worked. However, given how dark arts practitioners scrambled for new knowledge to gain power, he could well understand why Stenman would want his techniques to remain secret.

Perhaps Stenman had discovered _Harry's_ secret? As a _Schematamagus_, Harry could manipulate the _Schema_ of any object within his immediate grasp; it was well within his abilities to _replace_ Stenman's magical network with one of his own. If this were the case, Harry might have been chosen because his skills would leave Stenman free to concentrate on the delivery without having to reveal his own secrets.

However, Severus couldn't understand why Stenman had timed the network to fail _before_ the baby's birth rather than after, assuming it did have a specific longevity. Surely it would have been much simpler to be done with it alone, with no witnesses. If she were of 'good family' a simple notation in the ancestral registry about a woman dying in childbirth with a private burial would never be questioned by the authorities; not a frequent occurrence, to be sure, but it did happen.

Unless... What if this was a trap _for Harry_. Bring him in as a healer, force him, either through his sympathies, _or a binding contract_ to connect himself to her, and then kill her quickly, taking Harry with her. And Harry would never notice. His attention, and rightly so, would be tightly focused on the woman in front of him.

Convinced he was finally on the right track, Severus barely stopped himself from admiring the cunning needed to make such an insidious plan.

Putting the thought behind him, he turned his attention back to Harry; he suspected he would never again get such an unparalleled opportunity to see his spouse's abilities put to such a demanding test. Caught in a cascade of system failures, Harry zipped around, unerringly anticipating what the next one would be, only to arrive seconds before it collapsed. He changed the _Schema_ of one area enough to negate the previous spells to buy him some time, in another he would take something already damaged and _make_ it into what he needed to bolster the area. In essence, Harry was using pieces of the woman not needed to sustain her baby for this short time, to repair those systems required for the child's continued health. Watching him work, Severus realised that Harry's 'hop-scotched leaps of logic', as he'd often called them, were actually an asset here as the seemingly random jumps from one area to another began to form a complex pattern of its own.

Enthralled, Severus was quite sure Harry was totally unaware of it.

Harry combined his _Schematamagus_ abilities with his _Sanos_ magic to take any two or more _Schema_ and twist them into something else using the _Sanos_, thereby changing their original purpose to _anything_ he needed. Severus knew that, even as a _Schematamagus_, Harry should not be able to manipulate _Schema_ in this manner and yet, right now, he watched him do it over and over. He used the woman's wasted muscle and teeth for liver functions, hair and collagen became props for her struggling heart as Stenman's manipulations increased the demand for blood flow. Veins and arteries were shunted, those abandoned used for raw material as Harry's area of responsibility shrank to sustaining that one remaining area of healthy pink flesh.

This was different than one of Harry's normal healings where there was a profound give and take of function in order to achieve a living balance. In light of what he was witnessing now, the scope of Harry's talents was astounding--and sobering. Suddenly all the warnings Albus had uttered, the solid balance he'd relentlessly, yet surreptitiously established between them with their bonding and their respective magical abilities made tremendous sense if one considered the potential for abuse of any one of them.

Damn the man. He hated when time proved the old man right.

Severus dropped out of his reverie when he felt the first 'push' Stenman made against Harry's work. What the hell was he doing? Contractions? He planned on _birthing_ the child? This was sheer idiocy; Harry had just stabilised the woman, his heavy use of her own body keeping her alive, but with the contractions visibly rippling through her belly, Severus could sense her slipping away quickly with the increased demands on her systems.

Sweating with the effort, Harry said through clenched teeth, "Damn it, Stenman, hurry this up. I don't know why you're choosing this route, but I can't hold her forever. There's not much left of her to draw upon."

Severus heard Stenman's low chuckle. "You'll hold her as long as I need you to, _Magister_."

Harry's sharply indrawn breath was the only indication of his distress.

Within minutes of his warning, nothing useful remained within the woman. The only thing Harry had left, with which he had direct contact, was himself. Breathless, Severus watched Harry go deeper and, using the _Sanos_, he tied her cardiac system to his own to keep blood pumping through veins her dying heart could no longer support. With the continuing contractions, the demand for oxygen-rich blood was immense. The _Sanos_ rang strong and true, the note deepening as Harry took over her breathing. The other systems he could not hold started failing in an inevitable cascade effect. Poisons began building in her body as her kidneys, with one final sacrifice of her heart and lungs, struggled to filter blood for both mother and child. Severus knew fear, his vision filled with Harry and the woman breathing in unison, her heartbeat his own.

"Stenman, end this now, or you will lose them both," Harry gasped, sweat pouring off his face.

"Very well, Potter, if you insist." The scalpel was in Stenman's hands before Severus even registered its presence. With one neat slice the 'healer' opened the woman's abdomen; a second precise cut breached the uterus. Throwing the scalpel to the side, he plunged his hands into the bloody mess.

With the sudden drop in blood pressure as the woman bled out, Harry jerked, and in that one moment Severus knew the time of Harry's decision had arrived. If Harry let go now, which would ensure his own life, both mother and child would die immediately. If he held on, every second Stenman used would pull him deeper into the _Sanos_, deeper into his 'investment' as Harry used his own body to sustain them. Soon, all three of them would die.

Harry chose the risk.

And yet Stenman waited. Severus wanted to kill the man; as he'd thought, the former Death Eater was purposefully holding back, waiting for Harry to cross the point of no return, the private triumph and probable reward for Harry Potter's murder, his to claim. Harry, concentrating on his task, was oblivious to the delay.

Severus silently urged Harry to withdraw; there was still time for him to do so. It was one thing to intellectually know of Harry's risks, quite another to see that he would sacrifice their life together to save someone who might very well die anyway. All the old doubts and fears crashed through him. Was any stranger worth their happiness? Was Harry so arrogant in his successes he forgot the price of failure? Severus' cost? Did Harry still risk himself like this?

Then he took in the calm serenity overshadowing the strain lining his husband's face and his mounting anger suddenly deflated; no, Harry didn't take anything he did casually. To him, his life weighed equally against that of a child's. Severus smiled ruefully to himself; he wouldn't be 'his' Harry if he thought any other way.

However, this time it was different. Even in a memory, one he knew Harry had survived, Severus didn't understand why Harry was still engaged. Why couldn't he _see_ that this was pointless, an obvious trap. With growing irritation, he unthinkingly yelled, "Harry! Watch out--the bastard means to kill you!"

It was then Severus heard the low, growling hissing. Sleave! He'd forgot she was there. Uncoiling from Harry's forearm, the golden snake dropped to what had once been the woman's face and, with a twist Severus had only heard of but never actually seen, changed to a lurid purple with green stripes, making her deadly intent immediately recognizable. As fast as lightning, she undulated across the body until she was on top of the mound of the woman's stomach, stopping only to hiss menacingly at Stenman who, seeing her for the first time, paled. Sleave sprang the short distance to Stenman's arm and before he could blink, she was on his shoulder, ready to bite his earlobe. Stenman froze, and Severus had the satisfaction of seeing him sweat.

Harry's eyes flew open. Looking over, he could see Harry's face change to rage as he listened to Sleave. "The child--or your life--choose, Stenman," Harry gasped.

Without hesitation, Stenman's hands firmly held the tiny baby as he pulled her out of her mother. With Sleave still riding his shoulder, her tail wrapped around his neck, Stenman turned on his heel and placed the blood covered child in the middle of the cot and activated an unusual stasis spell, one Severus held in his mind to remember. He cut the cord with his wand.

Harry staggered as he disengaged. Severus knew there was nothing he could do; the woman was dead and the only emotion he could feel Harry dredging up at the moment was gratitude that she'd not taken him with her. Pulling himself back together with a shudder, Harry took the restorative he always carried on him. The effects were immediate as colour returned to his face; he no longer looked like he was liable to topple over at any moment.

Standing facing Harry, Severus could hear Stenman fussing with the baby, casting a series of spells to keep her alive in a language he recognized from the darker books in the library. With careful steps, Harry pulled his wand; standing behind Stenman, he held out his arm, hand extended. Following a string of Parseltongue, Sleave slithered to Harry, sliding effortlessly under the cuff of his robe, only to emerge a few moments later, her head extended over the back of his hand, her body coiled around his wrist. Once again her favoured golden colour, she resembled nothing more than an ornamental bracelet, although Severus knew her stance meant she was ready to attack.

Severus made a mental note to give her an extra dollop of cream tomorrow.

Stenman's attention now firmly fixed on the child before him, Harry stepped back and turned to face Colch, all but forgotten in the corner of the room. Severus had idly noted earlier that Colch had tried to leave, but a quick spell from Stenman had stopped him in his tracks, effectively trapping him in the room. Harry levelled the wand at the cowering director, threatening, "As of this moment, you and your _contract_ can go to hell." Colch opened his mouth to speak and Sleave raised her head, hissing at him. "_Null And Void!_ Say another word and--"

"Stenman, are you finished yet? This place is depressing and we need to get home soon to get ready for the Lestrange's party tonight," a familiar voice drawled.

Harry whirled around, his eyes narrowing as he confirmed the identity of the speaker standing in the doorway. "Malfoy! What the--" He stopped in dawning horror. Severus realised it at the same time Harry whispered, "That was Eunice, wasn't it? Your wife." At Draco's mordacious grin and nod, Harry yelled, "What kind of fucking monster are you? You did this to your _wife_?"

Draco shrugged. "The bitch outlived her usefulness and refused to cooperate, so I made her. The child on the other hand--she's already contracted and I bloody well am not going to give up the profitable alliance it took me months to arrange." He smiled maliciously. "That she'll probably prove malleable with her 'limitations', as the good doctor here so quaintly puts it, will only be a plus to her future husband. She's whole enough for our purposes; she'll be well able to breed, and that's all she's good for in any event."

With a snarl, Harry raised his hands, Sleave ducking back under his cuff out of the way. Severus could feel Harry's cold rage from where he stood and he was frightened by it. Colch stepped forward and cried out, "Harry, don't--"

"Silence!" Harry roared, his outflung hand sending Colch stumbling back against the wall. He turned his attention back to Draco, advancing on him. Behind him, Stenman watched with interest. "You are a sick, perverted bastard. You do not deserve to live. You deserve to suffer as you have made others suffer." He raised his arms and, opening his hands wide, Draco flew through the air, his feet flailing futilely as Harry's magic pinned him against the wall.

Severus had always known Harry was dangerous, had always known there would come a time when Harry would find himself in a position to tip the balance and fall into darkness. Evidently, that time appeared to be now.

Stenman fired a curse at Harry, but his defensive shields, still firmly in place, held and it bounced off harmlessly. Concentrating on Draco in front of him, Harry's face, as still as if carved in the palest marble, was terrible to behold.

Then Severus heard it. He could feel Harry's power curling tight within him, the _Sanos_ ringing sharp and bitter, its now-cacophonous song slicing through the room, centring on Draco's body held tight against the wall with Harry's magic, fuelled by Harry's righteous anger and, as Severus suspected, some small memories of his own.

It started beneath the surface. Draco began to pant, a whimper of pain escaping his lips as he started turning red. The cries he made were cut off suddenly. His eyes began to bulge as Harry raised the pressures of the fluids in his body. One by one, the veins distended, popping out like thick blue ropes on face and hands, the only things visible outside his robes. Draco began to gasp for air as the exposed veins started writhing like worms crawling beneath his skin. Similar movements could be seen beneath his robes. His mouth gaped in an endless, wordless scream. Turning from red to purple, his body bloated from the pressure within.

A gush of blood spurted from Draco's nose, quickly staining the front of his exposed shirt. Harry stared at it, struggling now with a different, internal conflict. Even dimmed by this memory, Severus could feel Harry's overpowering hatred of Draco, but there was also an underlying loathing directed at himself. Torn between his own baser instincts and what he knew needed to be done, Severus silently urged Harry to listen to his quieter voice of reason lest he cross the line he'd drawn for himself years before. He almost cheered as Harry slowly lowered his wand, the _Sanos_ note beginning to fade, when a thin wail pierced the silence of the room. The discordant _Sanos_ song suddenly stopped and, with a dull thud, Draco fell to the floor in a heap, his chest heaving as he drew life-giving air into his lungs.

Harry shuddered and cast wildly around the room as if seeing it for the first time until his eyes settled on the girl-child lying alone in the cot, crying, a haze of magic around her tiny body. Shaking, Harry walked over to the baby and, disregarding the sparks of defence magic flying as he entered their sphere, he bent and kissed her gently on the forehead, his hand cupping her cheek.

His expression puzzled, Harry stood motionless as if he were processing something he sensed from touching her. He pulled back quickly, his face blanching in horror as he whispered, "No! Not even for this. Oh gods, what have I done?" With an inarticulate cry, Harry Apparated out of the room.

The memory stopped abruptly and Severus found himself floating in darkness.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	4. Sssnakesss, Eggsss, and Sssock

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line

**Part IV : Sssnakesss, Eggsss, and Sssocksss  
13 February 2023** (Continued)

Harry sat on his heels by his husband's side and watched him carefully, his fingers gently stroking Severus' hair, ostensibly to keep it away from the memory strand draped across the bridge of his nose and eyes. While his vigil was mostly uneventful, there were sufficient twitches and gasps, grunts and mumbled incoherencies to startle him out of his thoughts as they wandered. One time in particular, when Harry once again was going over the events that had brought him here in the first place, Severus cried out quite clearly, "Harry! Watch out--the bastard means to kill you!"

Shaking his head, Harry tried to fathom what the hell it was he'd pulled from his mind; Severus' warning meant nothing to him now. He clearly remembered removing several memories earlier in the evening, two of which had given him pause. He recalled his fierce internal debate as to whether he should destroy just those two but had decided reluctantly to store them; evidently Severus needed to know their contents, so he couldn't very well get rid of them. However, he could still feel within him the profound relief he'd experienced when he'd finally placed them in the bowl. What they were, he hadn't a clue, but Harry suspected the active strand on Severus right now was one of those two. If so, he deeply regretted that Severus had 'seen' it in this manner, no matter how much he needed to.

A deep sigh drew his meandering attention back in time to see Severus' body go completely limp. Alarmed, he touched the silvered temple, seeking the cause. Breathing a sigh of relief, he withdrew; the memory had run its course. He wished he could have removed it before Severus had experienced it all, but he'd never heard of anyone 'seeing' a memory outside a Pensieve. He shrugged; it was too late to worry about it now. He deftly removed the fine filaments with his wand and after a moment's debate--in which he decided to deal with his crises one at a time--he placed it back in the Pensieve rather than in his head. Staring at it in the bowl, he realised it was brighter than all but one other; perhaps because it had been recently viewed?

When an image started forming on the roiling surface, he looked away quickly. Now was not the time for distractions; Severus needed him. How much he didn't know, so with little fuss, he made one more check of Severus' condition. His findings didn't really surprise him. While still unconscious, his spouse was mending well, his body busily healing on its own the small traumas remaining. With a lighter heart, Harry took Severus' hand and waited for him to wake up.

Given that Severus would be sore despite his best efforts, Harry summoned a bottle of pain potion from the lab's storage room. As it smacked into his palm, he felt a nudge at his hip. Setting the bottle aside, he looked down to see that Saganth had arrived. A beady stare his only greeting, the Kingsnake carefully tasted the air around him. Putting his head down submissively, he slithered up Severus' body and slowly coiled on his stomach, well away from his ribs, his eyes fixed on his master's face.

Sleave moved from her place by the fire and joined him, her attention wavering between her brother and the two men. She bumped Harry's hand in warning before climbing his arm until she rested on his shoulder. He turned his head to admire her shimmering scales. It never ceased to amaze him how she could change her colouring and, in the sixteen years she'd been his almost constant companion, he'd come to understand the meanings behind the seemingly endless combinations. When she was calm and happy, she wore a burnished gold, but when she wished to warn others of her venomous nature, she would change into a bright parrot green or blue, or a lurid purple. But for now, the rare iridescent rainbow subtly highlighting her scales indicated stress and anxiety.

He could sympathise.

Distressed, she weaved her head back and forth. _"Brother isss worried about hisss Massster. Isss your mate going to be well?"_

_"Yesss, Little One, my mate will be fine. He wasss not hurtsss too badly, he isss--sssleeping--right now."_

With his words, she calmed a bit, her long black tongue tasting the air. She canted her body in question. "_If he isss sssleeping, Massster, why do you not takesss him to the Sssleeping Placcce?"_

Harry chuckled. _"It isss not that kind of sssleepsss. My mate needsss to wakesss up before he can sssleepsss."_

_"Ah, I underssstandsss. Brother'sss Massster isss in the Cold Sssleep."_

Nodding, Harry answered her with a smile. _"Clossse enough, Little One."_

Sleave regarded him a moment and then hissed, _:If your mate will be fine, then why do you ssstill tassstesss like worry? Will Brother'sss Massster be angry with him?"_

Harry slowly shook his head, the momentary amusement leaving his face. _"No, Ssseverusss will not be angry with Sssaganth. He will know it wasss an acccident."_

_"Then I do not underssstandsss your tassste."_

_"My mate will be angry with me."_

She pulled her head back in confusion.

Harry looked away and sighed. _"It isss hard to explain, Little One, but I Hid The Eggsss from him and thisss will not make him happy."_

_"Oh! But hiding one'sss eggsss from one'sss mate is only prudent if one doesss not wantsss him to eatsss them."_

_"Ah, but it isss my Bad Fortune that he hasss already tasssted 'one' and now will want the whole clutch."_

_"Mmmm,"_ she hummed, thinking. _"Then you will jussst have to givesss them all to him now. Maybe if you givesss him the eggsss, you can ssstill sssavesss the nessst." _She flicked her tongue, tasting his skin and, moving her body close, rubbed her face against his cheek, her humming purr tickling a bit. Pulling back, she stared at him.

_"That isss my hope, Dear One." _He huffed a small bit of air in her face, and her tongue flicked out to taste it. Running a gentle finger from her dainty head down her slender body, she purred in delight at his touch. Sidling closer, she looped her tail over his ear as an anchor and snuggled against his neck in loving contentment. Together, they waited.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Severus took stock of what was left of him. His head floated freely in a bed of pain, thankfully separate from the rest of his aching body which had obviously been run over, perhaps by the Hogwarts Express. But that couldn't be right. He couldn't remember being in the station any time today and even if he had, it certainly didn't explain the heavy weight on his stomach which was moving slowly up his chest. He hissed in pain when it settled on his breast bone; the weight lifted and he sighed in relief.

With the tentative touch of a cool snake snout on his chin, Severus opened his eyes. Harry's face, hovering over his, swam into view in a haze of overly bright colour. "Turn the damn lights down," he croaked. He heard a chuckle as the room dimmed appreciably. Clearing his throat, he muttered, "Much better."

Harry's face disappeared from his view. Severus could hear him shifting, but he wasn't quite certain that turning his head, which had only reconnected to his neck in the last few seconds, would be a wise move. He certainly didn't want it to fall off again. Warm fingers grazed his temples and within moments he could feel Harry's gentle presence coursing through all the sore spots, easing them a bit; he was out as fast as he'd gone in. Soft lips kissed his forehead upside-down and wasn't that a strange feeling--Harry's breath in his hair, which he thought hurt almost as much as his brain.

Moving back to Severus' side, Harry placed a light hand on his shoulder and asked quietly with some amusement, "You ready to sit up, or do you want to loll around on the floor for a while longer?" At Severus' snort, he added, "Although I warn you, it could get pretty messy if I give you this pain potion in your current position."

"Prat. This just proves that your manners are better _in_ bed than _beside_ it," Severus muttered without any heat, smiling at Harry's laugh. "Is that Saganth on my chest?" At Harry's nod, Severus sighed. "He'll need reassurance, I'm sure. How badly was he hurt?"

"Just some bruising, nothing broken. He's fine now, but obviously worried." Harry lightly ran his finger over the heavy gold Ouroboros earring Severus had worn ever since Saganth was a hatchling. "Good thing this works or we'd never convince him you're all right; he still won't address me directly unless it's absolutely necessary."

"I'll speak to him again; there's no reason for his rudeness."

"Eh, don't bother; I've quite enough with Sleave." He looked between the two snakes. "Still hard to believe they're from the same clutch, though."

"Maybe he got his poor manners from Esmerelda," Severus said dryly as he raised his hands, placing them gently around the snake's smooth body. Saganth moved through his curled fingers, the flexing scales tickling his palms while his lower half straightened from its tight tangle. Graceful and fluid, he stretched until his pointed head rested against Severus' cheek, the tip of his tail loosely coiled atop his ankles. Soothed by the strong purr vibrating through the long body, Severus lightly stroked the younger snake so like his sire in appearance, and yet so different in nature.

Gathering his thoughts, he whispered the spell to activate their link. Almost immediately, Saganth broke the silence, his soft, worried voice filling Severus' head. _"Is Master all right?"_

Severus pulled his head back enough to see his familiar. _"I'm fine, Saganth. Are you? Did I hurt you?"_

Miserable, his head moving further to the side, he replied, _"No more than this one deserves."_

Gently tapping the snake on the head, Severus lightly scolded, _"Stop abasing yourself. It was not your fault. I called you and you came. I am the one who did not watch where I stepped. This was a stupid Human mistake."_

_"If you say so, Master. This one--"_ he hissed in distress _"--I will do as you ask. I am sorry I caused you hurt with my clumsiness."_

_"You are Forgiven, Saganth. And I am sorry I caused you pain with my inattention. It was not intentional."_

_"You are Forgiven, Severus." _His tongue flicked out. _"You say you are well and yet you still hurt," _he said with a bit of reproach. _"Was your mate unable to fully heal you?"_

_"Harry has done what he can, but the even warmest sunshine cannot make the grasses grow," _he commented with mild censure. When Saganth nodded his understanding, Severus added, _"The night grows long and I need to speak with my mate. I would ask that you and your sister wait for us in the Sleeping Place."_

_"Very well," _Saganth said reluctantly. _"Goodnight, Master." _He rubbed his face against Severus' cheek.

_"Goodnight, Young One." _When the snake hesitated, Severus reassured him, _"Do not worry so, I am well and will be to the Sleeping Place shortly. I merely need to talk with my mate for a while."_

Rising to look Severus in the eye, Saganth flicked his tongue, hitting him on the bridge of his nose. _"Talking and twining are not the same thing, Master."_

_"Impudent hatchling! Now off with you." _While Severus chuckled, his snake slowly slithered off and waited by Harry's side for Sleave to join him.

Brow raised in inquiry, Harry asked, "Everything all right now?" When Severus nodded, he smiled. "He came and got me, you know. Bit me this time on the Achilles to wake me up." Harry chuckled, listening to the two snakes talking to each other. "You told him to go to the Sleeping Place?"

"Yes, it seemed best, and I told him to take Sleave off with him. We need to talk."

Harry nodded, the bright humour in his eyes belying his serious expression. "Good. I'll make certain she goes with him; they're both too stubborn by half." He grinned slightly, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. "Wonder how _that_ happened, hmm?"

The soft hissing of the Parseltongue did to Severus' insides what it always did--damn, it was sexy. But he did have to admit the flood of endorphins in the wake of his body's reaction helped dull his headache. When the snakes departed, Harry slid his arm beneath his shoulders and helped him sit up, holding him steady as the initial dizziness passed. Popping the seal with a practised thumb, Harry handed him the pain potion. As expected, it tasted awful, like pureed sweaty socks, but given that it went to work almost immediately, he had little to complain about. The pain passing, Severus remarked smugly, "Ah, that's a fine potion, if I do say so myself."

Harry chortled as he replied, "Yes, Artemis does make them well, doesn't he?"

Severus sputtered. "Artemis?"

Harry laughed, turning the bottle so Severus could see the signature. "Yep, Artemis. The last of _your_ batches was used two weeks ago on the Slytherin Quidditch team when they got creamed by the Ravenclaws. Douglas insisted. Only the best for your snakelings would do."

Chuckling ruefully, Severus said, "Ouch, don't remind me. Well, it's as good as I ever made."

"Fine praise indeed from _The_ Potions master. Besides, these days you have more important brews to make than simple analgesics."

"True." Severus suddenly thought of what he'd just discovered about Harry's abilities. "Which reminds me. I need to talk to you about that; we may need to rethink our approach to the formulas."

Harry's puzzled frown only served to convince Severus they needed to wait before he revealed what he'd just seen. He needed to sort through the events and his own reactions to them before he could gain any objective perspective. Since Harry was oftentimes a bundle of emotions covered by skin, he suspected the lengthy discussions following the restoration of his memories would be highly charged; he didn't want them jumbled by his growing exhaustion and a lingering muzziness he was hard-pressed to dispel. They both needed a good night's sleep, one where he didn't have to fight Harry's adverse physical reactions to whatever else had happened. Selfish and petty of him, he supposed, but he sincerely wanted at least one night of uncomplicated pleasure; they both desperately needed a respite from the stress.

First, though, he needed to convince Harry, even if in a round-about manner. He really should feel guilty about such under-handed methods, but found himself unable to dredge up even one gram of remorse; if he approached it directly, Harry would stubbornly resist. To this most Slytherin end, he asked, "Were you planning on restoring your memories tonight?"

"I'd like to, if only because I've had some problems with disorientation in the past. When I checked my calendar for tomorrow, I noticed some patients I don't remember; I can only assume they're in the Pensieve. I'm obviously unsure about the others, though. I'm just sorry I forgot to remember to use the damn thing before I left for bed." He smiled, trying to seem unconcerned when in reality, he felt like a horde of Flobberworms had invaded his stomach.

Severus cleared his throat, ignoring for the moment Harry's increasing nervousness. "I think it slipped both our minds," he replied dryly. "However, I have a question." He paused, his gaze holding Harry's. "Have you ever retrieved a damaged memory?"

"No, is there a problem?" Harry asked, concerned.

Severus considered his answer carefully. "There could be, depending on _how_ it's damaged. If you've no objections, I would like to be present when you do. For this I can use our bond to keep any impaired memory separate long enough for you to pull it out again. It's purely a precautionary measure, rather like a spotter when one fishes off the rocks."

"Are you feeling well enough?" Harry asked, thinking this was probably not a bad idea. However, he realised a tandem effort, taxing more than just his own resources, would be fairly demanding and time-consuming. It was already late; perhaps it _would_ be best to wait until tomorrow. The thought brought immeasurable relief.

Severus eyed Harry's reaction, noting the slight relaxation of his shoulders. "Between you and the potion, I feel fine, if a bit tired, but since when is that anything new?" He pointedly glanced at the clock. "Hell, I have an hour before it's past my usual bed-time."

Harry followed his gaze. "It's actually two, but who's counting?" Standing awkwardly, Harry winced at the pins and needles of blood urgently filling his legs. Holding out his hands, he helped his husband to his feet. Watching with a professional eye the slight swaying Severus quickly controlled, Harry also noted the weary paleness starkly accentuating the black smudges under his eyes, making Severus look old and frail. Yes, waiting would be prudent.

Turning more serious, Harry continued. "I'd rather you watch, but not tonight. You look done in and I'm only awake by benefit of a snake bite."

"Are you certain?" Severus asked, forcing his face into an expression of concern; it wouldn't do for Harry to suddenly realise the direction into which he was steering him. "I'm quite capable of doing this now."

Harry insisted, "I know you are; however, I would rather do it in the light of day while we're fresh."

Stifling his sigh of relief, Severus nodded his agreement. "Very well. If you insist." He encircled Harry's waist loosely, dipping in for a kiss. "And, before I forget," he quipped, "thank you for seeing to my injuries. I'm sorry I caused you any distress."

_You are Forgiven, Severus,_ Harry hissed.

Shivering as the Parseltongue worked its magic down his spine, Severus ignored his body's response; taking Harry's hand, they walked sedately towards their apartment, extinguishing the magelights as they went. "I'm fresh," he remarked drolly to Harry's earlier comment. "You're barely alive before noon."

"Ah, true, but you promised me pots of tea, if I recall," Harry teased.

"And toast with marmalade." He waved his free hand. "Yes, yes, I remembered." They reached the opening to their quarters. After walking through the tapestry, Severus turned to Harry. "What about your patients tomorrow?"

Harry gave it some thought as they walked down the ramp. "I didn't note in my schedule that I'd need any extra restorative; I do that if the case is going to be particularly demanding. I'll call Jed in the morning and ask him to take them; he's off tomorrow and he owes me one or four. That would probably be the safest way."

As they moved through the Rotunda, Severus checked the _Loquarium_ for messages with a wave of his wand. Seeing none, he replied lightly, "Good. I was concerned that waiting would disturb your schedule."

Harry shrugged, walking into their bedchamber. "The only appointment I can't change is this Thursday when I'm meeting with Perrin and Carlotta. She is one busy lady; it took me weeks to settle on a date with her."

With mild surprise, Severus turned from his place at the wardrobe where he'd dropped his outer robe in the basket for cleaning. "Oh? How did you manage to draw Quiesta out of her ivory tower?"

Harry's soon joined it. "There's a couple of patients over at St. Mungo's who are used for teaching since they're so far gone," Harry replied, his voice partially muffled as he pulled his inner robe over his head. At Severus' raised brow, he said sheepishly, "That didn't sound right, did it?" He chuckled along with Severus. "Let me rephrase." He pulled on a dressing gown retrieved from the wardrobe, holding it closed against the room's chill. As Severus did the same, Harry moved away, saying, "We're testing Perrin on a couple of long-term patients singularly unreceptive to normal _Sanos_ treatments." He looked over his shoulder. "Better?"

Severus just snorted, saying, "Hmm. Sounds like some of the Third Years. Dismal Class." He watched Harry shed his heavy dressing gown, dropping it neatly over the stand by his side of the bed. As usual, Harry wore nothing underneath; it amused him how quickly his husband slid under the covers.

"Damn, it's cold." Harry cast a warming spell over the bed. "Ah, that's much better." He snuggled under the blankets and peered at Severus over the duvet. "Socks, Sev. Don't forget socks. I'm quite certain my warm legs cannot stand the shock of your cold feet."

Dressing gown gaping, Severus groused silently to himself as he rummaged around in the top drawer. Where the hell were his socks? These all looked like they belonged to Harry. Soon he was methodically working his way through all the drawers and, with a huff, he turned from the wardrobe, dark green socks with bright yellow flowers in hand. His face thunderous, he barked, "Damn that elf! He took all my socks and replaced them with--these."

Harry snickered. "_She_ did. Blinky replaced them this afternoon, saying they were a surprise thank you for the, ahem, gift you swore you'd never give them when their latest was born. She and Dobby were concerned your socks were too light since I'm always complaining how cold your feet are, so they made you new ones." Severus blinked. "Oh, come now, Sev. They're kind of cute and at least they match. Besides, what choice do you have? Those are the sanest in the drawers."

"Then I'm not wearing them. They're ridiculous!"

"Then you're not sleeping in this bed. Cold feet go in the sitting room."

"Harry!"

"Not joking, Sev," he said, his eyes sparkling. "No socks, no Harry. Which is more important? Your dignity or your sex life?" He laughed when Severus took time to consider the matter.

Severus groaned carrying the socks by two fingers. "It's a conspiracy," he grumbled, sitting on his side of the bed. Tugging one sock on, he continued, "Has to be, there's no other explanation." He pulled on the second sock and stared at his feet critically, wincing. "You're all trying to turn me into--into--_Albus_."

Harry choked out, "Hardly, although the periwinkle robes with the flying snitches are on order and should be in next week. I hear the matching cap is quite fetching and should go well with your eyes."

Severus growled, took the dressing gown off, and deliberately laid it over the horse next to the bed. Lifting the covers he slid in and laid on his side. His head on his hand, elbow firmly planted, he stared at his husband with one brow raised over a calculating eye. His free hand sneaked under the covers to land flat on Harry's chest.

"Oooo, they're very soft," Harry cooed in falsetto, rubbing Severus' socked feet with his own.

Severus lowered his voice until it was a low purr. "Ah, but you're not. And if memory serves, you gave me a choice..." Severus trailed his fingertips lightly down Harry's chest.

"Oh, it serves--" Around his navel. "--quite all right." Across his stomach. _Ticklesss._ Carded his short hairs. _More._ Rolled his balls. _Pleassse._ Slid up his cock. _Yesss!_ Played with his foreskin. _Don't ssstopsss!_ Grasped the shaft. _Oh, godsss!_ Slowly stroked. _Jussst like that--yesss!_

Turning slightly, Harry snaked one hand out of the covers to pull Severus' head down to his, their lips nipping, sucking, biting. Severus moaned when Harry shifted a bit further to his side, still murmuring in Parseltongue, his other hand sliding over his side and hip and down, to unerringly grasp Severus' hard length firmly, matching his movements. Tongues tangled in an open-mouth kiss as they both picked up the pace, sliding, stroking, pulling. Close, Harry dropped his head back, needing more air, his head thrown back on the pillow, muscles clenched, his free hand gripping Severus' arm. Groaning, Severus dipped his mouth to the closest nipple, suckling and nipping it with his teeth as Harry bucked up with a _SssoooGoodsss!_ Severus' answering climax followed a few heartbeats later, his hand clenched in the sheets by Harry's ribs.

Coming down from the rush, Severus rested his forehead on Harry's shoulder, catching his breath, relishing Harry's own erratic breathing. This was exactly what they'd both needed: the bond opened fully between them, removing the detritus of the last two days.

"Wow," Harry gasped, "I'm _so_ glad you chose your sex life over your dignity." He felt Severus chuckle after mumbling their cleaning spell. "What does that make it?"

Severus rolled over on his back and pulled Harry with him, kissing him lightly as he did so. With some irony, he drawled, "I believe tonight makes it 47,684 for me--" he yawned "--and 46,188 for you."

Shifting to his side with an answering yawn of his own, Harry said, "Hey! That's not fair; you have more left than me." With Severus' laugh rumbling under his ear, Harry murmured, "I'm sure you'll share." He snuggled down in 'his' spot. "Was a bit of all right, though."

Severus settled Harry comfortably against his chest, his arms wrapped securely around his waist and shoulder. Kissing his forehead, he teased, "Saganth says you're very 'articulate' when you come."

Harry opened his eyes wide and lifted his head, only to discover Severus' wicked grin. "You discuss our sex life with your snake?"

Quite reasonably, Severus said, "From whom else am I going to get a translation? And if I recall he was just curious at the time. Besides, being far more practical about these things than humans, snakes are rarely embarrassed about 'twining', as I believe he calls it."

"No, I suppose not. Bloody odd thing to talk about, though." Harry grumbled good naturedly.

"Possibly." Severus chuckled, wondering what Harry would think if he knew just how often Saganth teased him about it. Turning his head to the side, he hid a huge yawn in his shoulder. "I don't think I'll be needing any potion tonight."

"Know what you mean; I'm knackered." Harry said, raising up to kiss him goodnight. Severus surprised him with a long, slow slide of lips, more like the serious kind of kiss they usually exchanged before bedding each other than after.

Their lips separating slowly, Severus' eyes tracked all over his face as if memorising it. "I love you," he said simply.

Suspecting what had brought on this unusual verbal expression of affection, Harry replied in kind, "I love you." With one final kiss, he settled back down. Severus doused the remaining candles with a mumbled spell, and they lay comfortably in the dark, each to his own thoughts.

Harry smiled, knowing full well that Severus had manoeuvred him into waiting until tomorrow to take his memories; he'd been with him too long not to recognise the subtle signs of his sneaky spouse in full Slytherin mode. Of course, the brief glimpses through the bond of Severus' telltale smugness hadn't hurt either. Not that he was complaining; there was a certain comfort to be found in knowing his husband cared enough about him to think about his general welfare, both physically and mentally. And he also suspected why; he was no fool and knew that, after the last couple of nights, they'd both needed a night of harmony before resuming what would most likely be an unpleasant, arduous task. The bond flowing open between them was proof enough of how beneficial this delay had been.

However, for every positive aspect of their bond, there was also the negative. Severus was more restive than he seemed. As he listened to the subtle changes in rhythm of his husband's heart, Harry also caught a few fleeting impressions of Severus' fluctuating emotions: frustration, resignation, an almost tangible disquiet, and through it all, an underlying quiet anger. But to whom was it directed? Him? Someone else? Or was it both? For several minutes, Harry debated the wisdom of saying anything, but soon found he couldn't rest easy without begging the question. It wasn't idle curiosity driving him, rather a gnawing fear within him that whatever he'd done was causing his husband to feel this way about _him_. A few more minutes passed before Harry drew the courage to ask hesitantly into the quiet, "Severus, may I ask you something?"

After several long moments, Severus replied, "Mmm-hmm."

A feeling of wary caution washing over him, Harry almost lost his resolve. Bracing himself, he asked, "Was it awful?"

Severus sighed softly, his arms tightening around him as he bestowed a tender kiss to his forehead. "No, love. It was a horrid situation with impossible choices. You did just fine."

There was a solid truth in his words and in the calmer feelings coming from Severus; he wasn't angry with _him_, only the situation. Relieved beyond words, the emptiness threatening to engulf him rapidly filled with Severus' loving reassurance. "Oh. Good. I was just curious. We can talk about it tomorrow."

"Tomorrow," Severus murmured, almost asleep. "After breakfast."

Harry nodded, lulled by the now-steady heartbeat under his cheek. Just as he was about to follow Severus into his dreams, he muttered, "With pots and pots of tea."

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

TBC


	5. Where the Past Meets the Future

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line

**Part V : Where the Past Meets the Future  
****13 February 2023** (Continued)

The morning staff meeting long finished, Severus stood staring at the fire, the cup of tea in his hand gone cold as he reflected on a time he'd thought long behind him. Ten years, a decade, another lifetime ago, the span of time didn't matter when a single afternoon, spent pandering to the wealthy instead of tending his own concerns, still felt as close as yesterday. His face burning, he winced, the memory of his culpability still twisting his insides with a mortification he'd not experienced since his juvenile days at Hogwarts. Now that he knew in full the details of the morning preceding his folly, he realised anew just how close he'd come to losing everything defining his life today.

That he hadn't known then didn't feel like much of an excuse now.

Setting the cup aside, he sat heavily in a chair, letting loose that particular day's memories. He'd been in his old office working at his desk, a huge imposing affair he'd long since discarded. While reviewing his notes for an imminent meeting with some Society mavens, from whom he'd wanted private funding and support for the adults' schools...

_...Harry's head popped into the fireplace. "Severus? Do you have a moment?"_

_"Not now, Harry. Can't this wait?" he snarled, not bothering to look up._

_"Ah, well, I need to--that is to say--it's rather import--"_

_"Have you forgot I've a meeting in--" he threw his pen down in exasperation and checked the clock "--ten minutes. Scarcely enough time for me to memorise my presentation let alone have a chat with you. If we don't get that funding..." He let it hang, wishing the brat well away so he could get back to work._

_"Um, all right, Severus," Harry replied hesitantly. "It can wait a bit. Maybe before dinner?"_

_Grabbing the fallen pen, he tapped it impatiently on the table. "I've a staff meeting then and, before you ask, the Minister is coming by immediately after dinner for some such or other." The pen twirled in impatient fingers. "Which reminds me, don't wait up; I need to brief Moody about the new security plans and I could only fit him in late, after Arthur, not that he minds a bit." He mentally ran over his schedule. "Breakfast, perhaps--we can talk then, or if you want privacy, I'm free afterwards; I can give you a half hour or so before my ten o'clock."_

_"Tomorrow morning?" Harry asked plaintively._

_Noting the bowed head and heavy sigh, Severus bit back a sharp retort for such childish petulance. Surely Harry knew how important the new school was; after all, it had been his idea. He was about to point that out when Harry raised his head, his face calmly composed as he spoke briskly, "I'll have to check my appointments; I'll let Dobby know if I'm available after breakfast."_

_"That's sensible," he remarked, relieved Harry finally understood; he didn't have the energy for another one of their interminable arguments. Turning to his papers, the feeling of time running out made his skin itch as his concentration returned to his task. Absently he added, "Thank you for being so accommodating," but he said it to an empty room; Harry had already severed the connection._

_Disturbed by Harry's abruptness, he sagged back in his chair, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Time, he just needed more time. He'd already tried--with disastrous results--using a Time-Turner to stretch his days, and the Orrery was of no use for this sort of thing; it wouldn't allow him to double back on himself while in the castle. And yet, with the school's expansion, the list of things needing his attention never ended. He'd always been grateful for Harry's compromises with their schedules, but ruefully admitted he couldn't remember the last time he'd told him so. Perhaps he could spare a few days next month for just the two of them--in Hana, maybe? Suddenly longing to share warm, quiet sunshine with Harry, far away from these insistent demands, he eagerly flipped through his calendar looking for a suitable date but was interrupted by the arrival of his guests. Standing to greet Mrs. Parkinson and her cronies, he regretfully closed the book; it would have to wait._

_Near midnight, his meetings done at last, Severus returned to their quarters exhausted. He paused in the Rotunda when he saw a piece of parchment taped to the fish tank. Lifting it to the light, he read its two simple words, "I'm booked." He didn't think much of it, other than crossing Harry off his mental list of appointments for the next morning._

_He entered their bedchamber, but stopped cold when he realised the bed was empty and still made. Damn it! He was too tired for Harry's sulky games. Still, with a sense of uneasiness, he ordered the castle, "Take me to Harry." When he remained where he was, the first icy tendrils of panic trickled down his spine. Harry had left the castle? He next tried the spell Albus had given him, but his vision filled with nothing but a grey haze._

_His heart pounding, he raced up the ramp to the Orrery and hastily set the interval for when he'd been in his meeting, directing it straight to their quarters. Searching through every room, Severus stopped the image when he found Harry in their bedchamber. He could only hug himself as he watched his husband pack a small bag, the despair in his face harshly outlined by the bright sunlight filtering through the tall open windows. Harry pocketed his things and, after a longing glance around the room, grabbed a small piece of foolscap from the top of the dresser. He quickly left the room, stopping in the Rotunda to stick it to the tank's glass with shaking hands. Smoothing the wrinkles left from his tight clutch, he murmured, "I can't do this anymore." Raising his head to the domed ceiling, Harry shouted, "Do you hear me, Severus? I just can't do this anymore!" When the echoes of his anguish had been replaced by deathly silence, Harry turned on his heel and walked out the door without a backward glance._

Gods, how Harry had paid for his inattention.

He still cringed, easily remembering now the fragile edge to Harry's voice, the sharp sarcasm in his tone at the end of his fire-call. Qualities he'd not even noticed then, nor that Harry was missing later at dinner. In fact, he'd set aside the entire exchange--until he'd found the crumpled note.

Standing from the chair, Severus swiftly left the seating area. His guilt as raw now as it had been then, he opened the file room where, from a high shelf in the back, he removed a wooden box. Within were packets of personal letters he'd received over the last sixteen years. Digging blindly under the top layer, his hand unerringly grasped a small bundle tied neatly with a black ribbon.

Taking it with him to his favourite chair, he stared at the four letters he held, the crisp parchment crackling under his hands. Perhaps he should let this be and concentrate more on what he was going to say and do when Harry arrived.

Or maybe, now that he owned Harry's memories of that day as well, he should make the events following his own folly as fresh as that which had preceded it. He opened the first letter.

_Severus,_

_First off, Harry's here in Hana. Kalani and I went out to the house when the wards rang and found him sleeping on the lanai. He looks OK, no damage or anything and I don't think he heard us._

_Since I've never seen either of you out here alone, I can only assume you've had a fight and since I also know firsthand the hurt a bonded couple can cause when they're really pissed off with each other, I thought I'd let you know in case Harry doesn't._

_We'll keep an eye out for him, so don't worry about his safety, but for now, we'll just leave him to it. Probably be better if you did, too._

_If you need someone to talk to, though, the door's always open and the bat knows the way. Take care,_

_Ben_

The Owl had come a day late, accompanied with a note of apology from Pete for the delay caused by a storm on O'ahu. By the time it had arrived, he'd been frantic, his shame burning a path through his heart as much as his feet had worn a track in his carpet. When Harry had failed to come home the next day, he'd worked his way through Harry's routine starting with Colch, who'd told him Harry hadn't returned to the hospital since the morning before. Severus had never trusted the man, and this time had been no different; he'd obviously been hiding something.

Now he knew what the bastard hadn't said.

Shortly after he'd received Ben's letter, he received a late-night Owl from Harry. He'd held it for quite a while before opening it with shaking hands.

_Severus,_

_I'm in Hana and, assuming you've actually noticed, I'm sorry if I've caused you any worry._

_I'm not, however, sorry that I left; I need this time away to think about where I go from here, not only from you, but everything else as well. I just can't do this anymore and can't help thinking that sometimes it's best to stop fighting the inevitable and move on._

_Harry_

Severus was--as his American friends phrased it--a basketcase. Thinking Harry was going make his absence permanent, his first impulse was to rush off to Hana to be with him, to apologise and maybe even grovel if that was what Harry needed to forgive him. However, after a thorough harangue from both Cerise and Poppy for his 'reprehensible behaviour and unacceptable inattention towards someone you purportedly love', they adjured him to stay put at Hogwarts, maintaining that he only wanted to join Harry to make himself feel better. Perhaps they'd been right, but at the time it had been difficult to accept that, if he wanted Harry back, he had to leave him alone.

As Cerise had so aptly said it, _"The damage is already done, Severus, and there's nothing you can do to make it right until Harry decides what's best for him, where he belongs. I strongly suggest you take this solitary time he's given you to establish, once and for all, Harry's place in your life and what you're going to do to ensure that such an avoidable rift never happens again. A love like yours only happens once in a lifetime; see well to its continuing longevity."_

So he waited, already knowing where Harry belonged. With him. He didn't want to think about it anymore; Harry's apparent abdication of their marriage made the matter urgent. In desperation, he wrote Ben. In the long parchment, written in the depths of another sleepless night, he'd spilled the whole sordid mess, taking full blame in the matter; he'd not needed Poppy and Cerise's rather succinct summary of his shortcomings to know he'd treated Harry abominably.

Ben's reply, which arrived two evenings later, gave him hope that perhaps he'd misread Harry's message, that his husband's words might have been hastily born out of hurt and anger rather than any lasting desire to leave him.

_Severus:_

_Harry is fine. He sits out on the beach most of the day (once in the rain) and sleeps on the lanai. The only two he's talking with are Kalani and Joseph right now, although he's been civil, if a little distant, whenever I pop by. Mom's making sure he eats and Kahea's kept the house tidy although he's rarely in it. Kalani only hints at it (and Joseph is still tighter than a clam) but I think it's safe to say that there's something else disturbing Harry more than just your 'neglect' (as you call it)._

_Speaking of which, if it helps any, Kalani and I went through a similar period in our marriage. While my distraction was different, the end result was the same--I forgot Kalani was the most important part of my life and I took him and his affections very much for granted. He left me for a month and frankly, if Malia hadn't kicked his ass, I still think he might never have returned._

_You said in your letter that you'd 'disregarded and ignored Harry dreadfully'. Given your unimaginable workload and your normal attention to detail, that's probably true, but given what you didn't say, it's not your real problem. You need to realise that the prioritization of loved-ones first is a blessing, not a curse, something that brings calm into chaos. When we lose sight of our true priorities, time shrinks into a choking bind that leaves us flustered and irritated and bereft. Sound familiar? But when we do what we ought, somehow time stretches in a positive manner giving us the wherewithal to do both; I like to think of it as an emotional Time-Turner. I can hear you snorting from here. I know, I was sceptical, too, but when it happens--well, you just have to do it to understand._

_And soon. The thing they never tell you is that a marriage bond can fade over time if both parties don't work to maintain it. While it never disappears entirely, it does require almost constant affirmation and affection to keep it healthy. As my Aunty told me when Kalani left, it's a two-way street and one person, even with the best will in the world, cannot hold up both ends of a relationship. Harry doesn't strike me as the martyr type, so it's understandable he grew tired of keeping up his end alone. However, if the bond is weakened, you can't take all the blame; you're both at fault. Your neglect is as detrimental as Harry's relinquishment._

_That Harry came out here 'to think' is a good thing to my mind. If it makes you feel any better, Kalani says Harry obviously still loves you deeply, and is just as miserable without you as you seem to be without him, but there's this 'other thing' just below the surface as well that keeps him here. Frankly, I think he came out here more for that than the problems in your marriage. Or maybe circumstances just brought things to a head. Whatever it is, he's not saying and there are times when even Kalani's presence isn't welcome; Harry sits alone a lot._

_Nothing Kalani has said makes me think the situation can't be resolved between you. I agree with Poppy and Cerise, you need to stay there and leave Harry to it by himself. Let him work it out in his mind while you work it out in yours--as long as you're both thinking, there's hope. As my Aunty is fond of saying, forgiveness is wasted on someone who isn't repentant; from your letter, I gather you're more than willing to make changes to rebuild your relationship, and I suspect he is, too. Just give it some time. Hard that, ya?_

_Oh, and I should probably warn you; Kalani told Harry that you'd written me--no, no, not the details, just that you were very upset and the reasons you didn't follow him to Hana--but what's important is that he says Harry was very thoughtful afterwards. We'll continue keeping an eye out for him, keep him safe for you, for as long as it takes. Hopefully, he'll return soon._

_Take care of yourself, my friend. It wouldn't do for Harry to come home to a wreck, now would it? And should you need to talk further, you know where to find me._

_Ben_

_PS. Joseph says, "Hello," and to, "Take the damned sleeping potion! There's no sense making yourself sick on top of everything else." Wise man, my father-in-law._

Severus smiled. For one who'd been so alone as a child and outcast as a youth, to have such a friend as Ben still seemed unreal, a privilege he felt at times he'd not earned. His closest friend, Ben was the peer to whom he could speak without fear of censure or ridicule, a man whose opinion and insight he'd learned to trust. He'd never taken him up on that offer, but that it had been made with such sincerity in the first place, sealed their life-friendship. Even to this day, Ben frequently gave him a perspective he himself could never own. It was a pity he couldn't just Portkey over to Hana and talk to him this morning but, other than the pleasure of his company, he knew the trip would be pointless; Ben couldn't help him now, not this time.

After folding and stowing the second note, he opened the third, staring at the thick black writing. What had flowed off his pen so easily to Ben remained firmly stuck within him when he'd tried to tell Harry the same things. Hours he'd spent on it, the ground around him littered with his failed attempts. Time in which his thoughts had changed from merely _explaining_ to fully _understanding_ why. In one clear moment right before another empty dawn, he'd painfully realised he'd done something he'd thought he'd taken such care not to do: he'd broken one of their vows, the one that said he would never forsake Harry for another. He supposed, looking back on it now, that he could be partially forgiven in not equating a 'thing' like Hogwarts as 'another', but the unvarnished truth was he'd sacrificed his mate and their relationship on the altar of his career, and they'd both been hurt by his preoccupation. From there, all the unnecessary verbiage of his earlier missives easily distilled into the purest four lines he'd ever penned:

_Harry,_

_I miss you._

_I need you._

_I love you._

_Pignus meus audi: Non te desebo ut alium habere. Please! Come home._

_Severus_

Two more days passed with no word, a total of ten days in which he'd tried to stave the mounting depression by immersing himself in Hogwarts business. Failing miserably, he learned another valuable lesson; Hogwarts survived just fine without his constant meddling. Quite a blow to his ego, but one he refused to ignore. In the long hours he waited, he began formulating the structure he had in place today, one that had him shedding self-imposed duties to other shoulders more able to bear them.

While the days had been difficult, the nights were nigh on impossible, filled with restless dreams--when he could fall asleep at all. His body had ached for the warmth of a tousled head trustingly nestled on his shoulder, a loving tangle of limbs, the gentle press of lips that somehow defined him and made him real. His soul started unravelling without the ties binding it. At times, he would wake, shuddering with the fading loss as the so-real phantom lover comforting him, disappeared with the sleep he blinked out of his eyes. Cold and miserable without Harry, he'd moved into the sitting room, hoping that with a new place, he could find some solace in his solitude. He didn't succeed; his dreams still haunted him, yet he refused respite with his potions, the lonely awareness his penance paid.

On the third night after he'd written Harry, he'd fallen asleep at the desk in his study. Waking abruptly, the skin on his neck tingling from a phantom kiss, he saw an Owl had been delivered and left on the worn wood surface near his hands. When he'd eagerly pulled the unfolded parchment out of its envelope and saw his own letter returned, his heart nearly stopped with dread. So this was Harry's answer? Filled with despair, he'd shakily turned the parchment over, unable to read his own sorry pleas for clemency.

Harry had replied on the back:

_Severus,_

_You do well to remind me of our vows, so let me add: Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit. Semper te amabo ad integumenta mortis et ulterior._

_I promised you forever, and I won't break my troth; I'm coming home._

_Your Harry_

_PS. Go to bed, love; you'll only wake up stiff and sore if you stay in that chair all night._

His heart taking wing, he'd laughed with the joy. Then the import of the postscript hit him; jumping out of his seat, he'd knocked his chair over. Pelting across the Rotunda, he'd stopped only long enough to throw their bedchamber door open. At the bang of the heavy wood against the wall, he dimly saw a tousled head peep over the covers.

He'd not been dreaming this time; his Harry was home.

Stopping only long enough to toe off his shoes, he slid under the covers, the outstretched arms awaiting him had enfolded him fast to the lover and mate he'd so sorely missed. A whispered, "Scratchy," and a murmured spell left him bare to mould skin tightly to skin. Limbs entwined eagerly, lips found each other in the dark and, although the ensuing loving was frantic in its urgency, no better joining had they ever had as their bond renewed, weaving them into one whole again.

Severus was home, too.

Over the following years, they'd both worked hard to make it work. Taking his promise seriously, he'd cut back on his time spent administering Hogwarts; surrendering his control, to trust and delegate had not come easily, but eventually he'd learned not to hover too much. Now he wondered how he'd ever done it in the first place. For his part, Harry eschewed the unrealistic demands of the hospitals and his patients, setting his own pace by opening the clinic and taking on Jed to lighten the load when they got too busy. It worked. Hogwarts ran smoothly now and they spent as much time as they could together, whether alone or enjoying the blessings of friends, both here and in Hana. Their still-busy schedules became something to laugh over rather than fight about.

Ben had the right of it; time really did flex when one paid attention to the truly important things. A hard lesson, to be sure, but when had he ever learned anything worthwhile the easy way?

But now, given the memory he'd experienced last night, he knew the 'other' reason why Harry had left, what he'd wanted, no, _needed_ to talk to him about. The shame again cut deeply as he remembered how preoccupied he'd been, how callously he'd dismissed what in hindsight could be easily seen as a cry for help, as rare then as now. Thinking of his spouse's pleas the other night, his body's unmistakable messages, hinting of a newer, similar internal turmoil, he suspected there was more of the same coming.

And he'd be damned if he failed Harry this time.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

_Pignus meus audi: Non te desebo ut alium habere._  
Hear my pledge: I will never forsake you for another.

_Te apud constanter manebo, neglegens si magno mihi stetit. Semper te amabo ad integumenta mortis et ulterior._  
I will steadfastly stand by your side regardless of personal cost. I will love you always to the veils of death and beyond.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Harry thoroughly enjoyed his 'pots and pots of tea' after Severus had dashed off to breakfast in the Great Hall. He smiled smugly, thinking that, while Severus was a stickler for punctuality, he almost always ran late for his morning repast, a fact that rarely escaped the staff's amused and sometimes vocally ribald attention.

Knowing Severus always took report after breakfast, Harry leisurely made his ablutions, opting for older, almost shabby robes rather than proper attire; after all, he was only going to Severus' office and no one else would see him. Besides, he wanted to be comfortable and the butter softness of the worn fabric against his bare skin felt wonderful. Given the odd nagging in the back of his head and a queer sinking feeling in his gut, which told him the resumption of his memories would not be pleasant, he felt he needed every comfort he could muster.

Remembering his promise to Severus the night before, Harry went into the Rotunda and activated the _Loquarium_, setting it to the limits of its local range as he called for Jed in Hogsmeade. Luckily he was still at home, his opening, "Harry, are you all right?" a puzzler.

"Of course I am, Jed. Why wouldn't I be?"

"Are you joking? After what happened in the clinic on Friday?"

Clinic? Hazy images hovered on the edge of his consciousness, teasing him with their vague uneasiness. A shudder ran down his body as intermittent flashes of inexplicable violence--Sheila slumped to the floor, a dead man, a puddle of blood--echoed his restless dreams of the night before.

The sharp, "Harry, you all right there?" broke his thoughts.

Shaking himself, Harry had no doubts now that his intuition about his memories was more accurate than he wanted to contemplate now. Stalling Jed, he said with a wave of his hand, "Oh, _that_. I don't want to talk about it right now, if you don't mind. I'm still trying to process everything."

Jed looked relieved; maybe it was worse than he guessed. "Certainly, Harry. I'm not too keen to dredge it all up again myself; Shacklebolt was here yesterday after we talked, questioning me. He said he'd already spoken to Severus, something about memory retrieval. Must've been awful, that."

Shacklebolt? About the clinic as well? Damn! However, he could answer Jed truthfully when he replied, "Yes. Yes, it was something I don't want to ever do again, but we got almost everything." Then inspiration struck and he knew how he could appease Jed's blatant curiosity _and_ request his assistance without revealing every detail--and his own ignorance. "Which is why I'm calling you. I'm still recovering from the whole ordeal. Could you take over my patients this afternoon?"

Good Jed. Without hesitation he replied, "Certainly. Who are they?"

"I don't recall and that's part of my problem. Sheila could tell you, though."

Jed's face filled with concern. "I understand, Harry. Bumped you a bit in the head, did he?"

That was the understatement of the year, but for now it would suffice. With a silent apology to Severus for possibly maligning his considerable skills, Harry nodded, saying, "Yeah, it wasn't easy; he had to dig a bit."

"Well, I shouldn't wonder, what with you still recovering from the attack and all. Makes you wonder sometimes where their priorities are when they won't even let a bloke get a bit of rest before dragging him through hell again."

Attack? Harry shook himself; it was past time to end this conversation. "Well, that's the nature of a bureaucracy, isn't it? Thank you for your help; I really appreciate it."

"No, problem, Harry. Anytime. You just take care now, all right? I'm wondering: are you going to be up to snuff for our meeting tomorrow?" When Harry stared blankly at him, his mind racing, Jed added, "About our new venture?"

Ah, now he remembered. "Yes, absolutely. Ten o'clock?"

"Right. I'll be there. Bye, now."

Jed broke the connection before he could reply.

Relieved it was over, Harry glanced at the sunshine's position in the dome; it was late morning. Severus should be long finished with his meeting. Refusing to linger in speculation, Harry made his way up the ramp to Severus' office. Stepping through the tapestry, he saw his husband sitting quietly by the fire, his head lowered in deep thought. Quietly admiring the bright room, he started for the sideboard when he noticed Severus had already moved the Pensieve to a low table on the far side of two chairs set closely together. Harry was pleased to note that Severus had also traded the other two chairs for Harry's favourite Chesterfield from their quarters; good, maybe he could get some reading done afterwards.

He leant over Severus' chair, gently running a few silvered strands of his hair through his fingers. When Severus startled, Harry bent over to kiss his temple. "Hullo, love. Sorry to disturb you."

Severus grunted and blinked his thoughts away, lifting his face for a more proper kiss, which Harry happily obliged.

"I trust you found your 'pots and pots' adequate?"

"Fair to middlin'. The 'cream' I had before it was far more satisfying," he teased with waggling brows, "but I made do." When Severus chuckled, he rubbed his nose with his own.

"Are you ready?" Severus asked gently, his dark eyes tracking every line in Harry's face.

"I suppose so. Do I need do anything out of the ordinary?" he asked, taking the seat to Severus' right.

Severus shook his head. "No, it's similar to a simple _Legilimency_ exchange only done within the bond. If one of the memories is harmful, I'll contain it. Once you've pulled it, just change its _Schema_ to something innocuous or something you can toss into the fireplace."

Harry nodded in understanding, and smiled nervously. "How does one do this without bonds and a _Schematamagus_ on hand?"

"It's not pleasant. The _Legilimens_ 'sits' in the other's mind, secures the memory, and then destroys it. Even if careful, one can destroy other associative memories as well. And it's totally invasive; the _Legilimens_ has complete control over the other person's mind."

A shudder running through him, Harry said, "Sorry I asked. That sounds awful."

Severus' grimace of distaste an answer in itself, Harry sat back in the chair and pulled the bowl closer to him within easy reach. Severus settled into the seat, getting comfortable. Harry placed his left hand flat on the arm of Severus' chair, loving the way Severus trailed his fingertips across the sensitive skin before folding them over the tops of his fingers. Within moments he could _feel_ his husband's presence floating inside him and savoured the gifted warmth swirling through him, thawing his icy apprehension. Comfort soon followed, a bracing support he could feel mingling with his own gratitude; he was not alone.

With Severus' nod, Harry dipped his wand in the Pensieve and picked up the first memory, placing it on his temple. Mrs. Connors, his referral tomorrow. Good, it seemed fine, the disorientation weaker than he remembered, but perhaps that was because of Severus' presence. Succeeding with several others, it was a bit of a jar when one didn't feel quite right. Almost immediately he could sense a barrier in place; he could still 'see' the memory, like an clear glass ornament on a Christmas tree, but not experience it.

"It's harmless," Severus' low tones washed over him, "but incomplete and will feel odd until fully absorbed."

Harry flashed his amusement. "Going on the premise that some memory is better than none, I'll keep it." Instantly the barrier was gone, and Harry found Severus was right; it felt like wearing a shirt one size too small, but it soon 'stretched' as he made it his own. Moving on, he took two more. On the next, the barrier appeared before he'd even 'looked'.

"Remove it." Answering Severus' urgency, Harry placed his wand and drew the strand back out from behind the barrier. He studied it dispassionately; it looked no different than the others. He concentrated, changing its _Schema_ to that of a piece of wood and tossed it into the fire where, with a bright flash, it was consumed.

Rather than disturb Severus' concentration, he eschewed his reflexive 'thank you' and continued retrieving his memories. Soon the Pensieve was almost empty; one other had been discarded and he wished he'd thought to write down what they'd been so he'd know what he lost. He'd remember next time, if there ever was one.

He stared at the last two remaining in the Pensieve. Were these the memories he'd considered destroying when he'd removed them? He didn't think he'd consciously left them to last, but there they were, and he'd seen none so far to disturb him. He briefly considered delaying, claiming fatigue, but was reluctant to make them go through this again.

Harry sighed, realising he couldn't not take them. Resigned, he set his wand to one at random and pulled the long fine strands slowly out of the Pensieve, placing them back where they belonged. Within seconds the scene played before his inner eye. Colch, Stenman--Draco! Almost killing Draco. The child. Running home to Severus. His rejection. Going to Hana. Coming home. All these events flashed in an instant of blinding clarity. Reeling, he started to fall--

An anguished cry erupted unbidden from Harry's lips. His body visibly shaking, he pulled his hand violently from under Severus' to cradle his stomach, the other covering his eyes. Staggering from the chair he made his shaky way to stand in front of the fireplace, his back to the room, his arms crossed protectively across his chest.

Stunned at Harry's reaction, Severus sat back in the chair, recovering from the abrupt end of their connection. Not one to let things fester, he moved behind Harry, running his hands lightly down his back. Harry jumped at his touch, then sagged into him; Severus braced for the unexpected weight. Placing his hands on Harry's shoulders, he coaxed him by small degrees to face him before folding him in his arms. Harry quickly dropped his forehead on Severus' chest but not before he'd seen a grimace filled with deep shame. Shame? Why would Harry feel shame?

Broken words came up to him, and he listened carefully. "It was so long ago, I'd forgot how bad it was. The healing was all wrong, and then there's what I almost did to Draco. I'm so ashamed of how I misused the _Sanos_. I should have defied Colch... although I've never agreed to do anything like it again..."

Ah, so they now shared the same memory; this was progress. To tell Harry so, he sent an image of the dungeon-like wizarding space hallway they'd walked through, and asked neutrally, "Is this why you started the clinic? I always wondered, you know."

Harry startled, then nodded; Severus could feel his relief. "Yes, two weeks after I returned from Hana, Sheila and I opened the offices. Colch is still director at Barties; he goes out of his way to avoid me."

"I'll wager he does," Severus replied with some irony, pulling him closer.

Harry sighed, remembering now why he'd removed the memory and its connection to the other night. With Severus' calm acceptance washing away some of his nervousness, Harry began, "She was damaged--the little one, that is, her mind was almost gone. Eunice's daughter, just like her mother."

"You couldn't have known; you did the right thing trying to save her." Even if _he_ didn't have to like the risks Harry had taken to do so.

Harry shuddered and continued bleakly as if Severus hadn't spoken. "I never knew her name, if she ever had one, never even tried to find out; it was so much easier to push it aside, to not think about it. I'll never know now; she's lost."

Wordlessly, Severus curled his arm around Harry's shoulder protectively and led him unresisting to the sofa where he cradled him against his chest. Harry buried his face in Severus' shoulder, trembling. Holding him tightly, his cheek resting quietly on the soft mop of hair, Severus waited patiently for the worst of his spouse's understandable reaction to subside.

When a much calmer Harry burrowed in closer, Severus murmured, "She was lost long before then, love, even before her birth. And searching would most likely have proved impossible. Seeing he has four other grandchildren from Draco, and I never heard of a fifth, there's every likely chance Lucius never officially registered the child's birth except in their private ancestral records; an official verification of the daughter's bloodlines would be unnecessary unless she married. And given what you just said about her mental state, I highly doubt Draco was able to fulfill that contract."

"But surely Eunice's family--"

"She had none to speak of; there were no siblings, none to miss her. Eunice's father was killed in the final battle and her mother died shortly after Eunice's marriage to Draco; her remaining cousins would never have questioned a Malfoy. I do recall the brief splash about her funeral, although the cause was never given."

"I know, I read the articles as well; I should have gone to the authorities then, or at the very least told you about it. I suppose, in a way, I'm as much responsible for her death as Draco."

Stroking Harry's hair, Severus said gently, "Hush, don't even think it; you're taking far too much blame on yourself. There's no shame in wanting to help someone else--you had no foreknowledge of what was going to happen and, from what I saw, you'd been locked into a binding magical contract you couldn't break." Harry made a noise of protest, but said nothing. "If you're going to blame yourself, you might as well blame me as well; you _did_ try to tell me, but I threw the opportunity away."

"Even so, I should have told someone--"

"Tell them what? What would have been the point?"

He could feel Harry's confusion when he exclaimed, "That Draco killed his wife with a _Coactum Curse!_"

It dawned on Severus that Harry couldn't know. Would the knowledge make it better or worse? "Harry, once the victim dies of a _Coactum_, it leaves no trace."

Harry sat up. "What? How could I have missed _that_?"

"Its use _is_ quite rare. My _Schema_ notes of that curse, among others, were just that--short, concise, and for my use only. I wrote as little as was necessary to fully understand something, nothing more, in case my personal records were ever confiscated. You couldn't have known unless I'd told you and, I'm sorry, I didn't think of it."

Harry was quiet for some time; Severus watched the logic flit through his expressive face. "And Stenman and Draco wouldn't have been foolish enough to leave her body for someone to find in any event."

"Precisely, and even if they had, there would've been nothing for the authorities to see other than a heroic effort--by two legitimate healers--to save a baby."

"And since there's nothing illegal in failing to report the cause of death when a reputable healer is willing to certify it at a later date... Stenman wasn't wanted by the Ministry then. But to not record the birth? We're required to register them with the Ministry."

"Yes and no. Maybe healers are when they're involved, but there _are_ loopholes for those who know how to use them, and I assure you, Lucius does. The family ancestral records are but one channel a family can use outside of the Ministry. Another is the magical record of witches and wizards that appears here at Hogwarts at their birth, which is considered an official record unto itself. If a child of wizarding parents fails to appear on the list, then, as a squib, the Ministry truly doesn't care one way or the other."

"You're joking."

"No, I wish I was, though. Albus had a devil of a time employing Filch--after all, no such _wizard_ existed." Severus snorted. "Not that it stopped the Ministry from docking his taxes." He shook his head. "Such a waste of our heritage; even a squib has value."

Harry sighed. "To ignore anyone like that is a waste. As to the child, I suppose it doesn't really matter any more, does it? She's dead and no one knows she even existed."

"We do. It will have to be enough, for now."

As Harry nodded, Severus gathered him back in his arms. Given the tension permeating his spouse's body, he wasn't very surprised when Harry said quietly, "I can't forget her face before Draco pushed her off the station platform, Severus. Blank--devoid of thought, and yet--so haunted. Such a thin, frail child. It was like time stood still. One moment she was there, the next--" Harry drew a deep breath. "I saw his face as he did it--he was watching _me_, mocking me, just like he did when she was born."

His whole body quivering, Harry murmured shakily, "I hated him again at the station just as much as I did a decade ago. I felt the _Sanos_ rise, pulling at me to release it. I barely stopped it. It was so hard, I just wanted to destroy him. Draco laughed, shouting across the distance that I should have let her die when I had the chance. And maybe I should have. To what kind of wasted life did I condemn her?"

Severus had no answers to this or any of it right now, but he did have conjecture. Thinking back on the two memories, he realised Harry was right about Malfoy's malice, to a point, but his expression of it at the station was far more deliberate than at the hospital. Then there was the child. He had no doubt she'd been killed because she presented a liability, but the method confounded him; her messy execution was certainly not what he would expect from the usually fastidious elder Malfoy.

Perhaps Draco had acted on his own rather than involve his father? Yes, this made more sense as there was no logical reason for it otherwise; the curses and hexes from the combatants alone would have been enough to panic the Muggles for Lucius' purposes. Draco always had been too impulsive. If he was right, then Draco spotting Harry must have been like every holiday rolled into one for him; throwing her death in Harry's face was almost certain to hurt him.

But now was, perhaps, not the time to mention any of it.

Harry curled further into him and slid his arm across Severus' waist, seeking comfort. Severus kissed the top of his head. "I believe everyone's life has a purpose, Harry. Albus believed that once you fulfil your destiny, you cease to exist--some of us just take longer than others. While I was never comfortable with his notions of pre-ordained fate, I also have to acknowledge that we cannot possibly know her life's duty. If one accepts Albus' premise, perhaps her entire purpose was to be at the station, at that moment, to make a seemingly minor, dismissible incident into something so horrible the Wizarding World would finally take notice. Taking it further, even Draco must have more to do since he still exists. Perhaps he is nothing more than destiny's pathetic plaything; he may never know the thousands of lives he saved by sacrificing one he thought had no value."

"On the other hand, we may never know how many lives I could have saved had I finished him off ten years ago," Harry murmured.

"At what cost, love? The loss of all that's good within you? No, we will never know, nor should we. The most we can do is trust we are doing the right thing and blindly move forward."

Harry was silent, but some of the tension drained out of him. "I don't know," he replied softly. "You may be right. I don't think the way you do. I lost my trust in myself. I--well, it wasn't my finest moment."

"No, Harry, it _was_ your finest moment, the one where you finally gained control of yourself and your magic."

Harry scoffed, "Some control, I almost killed Draco by perverting the very thing I've built my life on. If that baby hadn't cried--"

"If Eunice's baby hadn't cried, you still would have stopped. I _saw_ it, Harry. Your wand was already descending, your decision made _before_ she uttered a sound. In that moment of righteous anger I saw you deny your baser impulses to make a strong moral choice, just like you did at the station; there was nothing to stop you then other than yourself, and no one would have condemned you given what happened."

"Friday," Harry murmured half to himself. "Something _happened_ Friday--at the Clinic. Jed mentioned it both times I talked to him. I knew what he meant yesterday--but not today."

"Yes, Shacklebolt alluded to it--"

"Something bad happened; I just know it. Why else would I--" He shuddered. "I have to see it, have to--" and before Severus could stop him, he broke free of his arms. Rushing to the table he retrieved his wand where it had fallen to the floor and scooped up the last strand from the Pensieve. After the filament disappeared into his forehead, Harry stiffened, his wide-staring eyes glazing in shock as his skin changed rapidly to a ghastly grey filmed in a layer of heavy sweat. Folding in on himself, he dropped to his knees; rocking, his tightly curled body shook violently as if in the throes of palsy.

Panicked, Severus launched himself across the small distance, half covering Harry as he tried to reestablish the connection he'd been using to assess the memories. Damn it, Harry was blocking him! Severus had to know if the last memory was viable; if not, it could cause this kind of adverse reaction. It could kill him.

He would not lose Harry. Not today, _not ever_, not if he could help it. He must _see_.

Knowing he had no choice as long as Harry refused him entry, he regretfully whispered, _"Legilimens."_ With a painful wrench, he crashed through Harry's barriers and, unbidden, the new images swamped him.

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TBC

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'Timely' words of wisdom courtesy of 'Aunty' Aseneth.


	6. The Separation Between Light a

Hiding Under the Ninth Earth  
Chapter Three : Walking a Fine Line

**Part VI : The Separation Between Light and Dark  
13 February 2023** (Continued)

Lunch with Perrin had been tense, but Harry suspected that was more because he'd scolded the boy for not talking to Severus as he'd promised rather than any of the usual flotsam between them. Or so it seemed. Regardless, Perrin had made a concerted effort not to mention his wife and Harry had earnestly endeavoured to pretend Perrin didn't have one. Somehow they'd managed to remain civil long enough to complete a meal without any argument.

"Did it go well?" Sheila asked him as he walked into the front office.

"Well enough," Harry hedged.

"And..."

"And nothing. I told him how disappointed I was. He apologised. We ate lunch."

"You all right?" she asked softly.

Harry shrugged. "Not really, but you already know that." Willing the familiar hurt away, he added with false cheer, "So, anything interesting happen while I was gone?"

Sheila sighed, then said briskly, "We had a Muggle come in about an hour ago." Her raised brow and disdainful sniff told him she thought the man more drunk than ill, but she limited her verbal comments to a tepid, "Jed's seeing to him now." Amused, Harry shrugged at her distaste; wouldn't be the first time and if this were the case, Jed would give the man a sobriety potion and send him on his way.

"Well, I'll leave him to it. I'll be in my office doing charts if he needs me." He didn't give her time to reply; the bright sympathy in her eyes was more than he could bear right now.

Harry made his way down the back hallway to his office after stopping to relieve himself. He'd almost reached the door when Jed burst out of the room across, his curious close-legged scurry reminiscent of a toddler racing for the bog. In passing he hurriedly stammered, "I've stabilized the patient. Late fifties, comatose. He's loaded. More your cuppa than mine." Almost as an afterthought, he tossed out, "I left my notes--" the words cut off as the door to the loo closed and locked behind him.

Harry shook his head at the brevity but, given the normal flux of Jed's nervous bowels, Harry assumed his call of nature urgent and didn't stop him for more details. Belatedly realising all his associate hadn't said, he wished he had, but also knew from long experience that if he tried to ask him anything through the door, Jed wouldn't answer him. Staring at the plain wood surface behind which sat his answers, Harry snorted; while deucedly inconvenient at times, Jed's personal eccentricities were fairly easy to tolerate in light of his competence, although this was not necessarily an opinion his peers shared.

No matter, Jed's usually thorough notes should provide the missing information. Intrigued, Harry crossed into the exam room, glancing quickly at his latest patient, a rag-clad derelict, no different than the hundreds of others he'd observed living on the fringes of Muggle society. Such a waste. Opening his senses, he was almost immediately assaulted by the dark magic clinging to the man like early morning fog on a pond. A nagging familiarity teased this side of his subconscious, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand to wary attention; he should _know_ this.

However, Jed's well-set dampening field, which protected Harry from the many hazards of working blind, also reduced his extrinsic sensitivity. He needed an initial diagnosis before he could proceed. Where was the chart? Perplexed, Harry glanced around the windowless exam room; short of himself, a short sideboard, and the unconscious man lying rigid on a narrow bed, the largish room was empty. Checking the drawer where the chart could have been, he even felt the edges around the top thinking it might have been caught there as it had one time before. But it was empty.

_I left my notes..._ Where? Well, that could be several places, actually. Perhaps, while he'd been on his way to his office, Jed had sent it to Sheila before raising the wards? Considering Jed had no idea when Harry would return, the thought made ironic sense, but since the room's current ward was tuned to Jed, it also meant Harry couldn't just summon it; he'd have to fetch it.

Sighing impatiently, Harry left the patient behind, glaring at the bathroom door as he passed it. Entering the front office, he asked briskly, "Sheila, did Jed send you--?" and stopped, rocking back on his heels. The room was empty as was the small waiting room beyond, visible through a one-way window. Huh? Where was she? Considering she'd been here just a few moments ago, and Jed occupied the only loo, this was odd.

What had only been a vague uneasiness blossomed into fresh urgency. He strode across the office into a small workroom which led into the clinic proper. Halfway across, a flash of cornflower blue--the same shade Sheila had been wearing today--caught his eye from under a nearby closet door. As he tried to open the out-swinging door, the latch stuck; he finally worked the handle by pushing the door into the stop, bracing his body against a heavy weight threatening to pop it open.

"Sheila!" he gasped in dismay as he eased her crumpled body down to the floor. Falling to his haunches, Harry visually assessed her limp form half-in, half-out of the small room lined with shelving beyond. His hand travelling down her spine, followed by a gentle probe through her bound silver hair, revealed no physical injury to speak of. With a minute flick of his fingers, he slowly rolled her over. Quick touches to throat, eyes, and forehead told him she was the victim of a simple stunning spell. He briefly debated waking her but decided it would be safer for her to come 'round on her own.

Thinking furiously, he realised someone must have slipped in, unseen, with the patient. Had to be as Sheila never mentioned two visitors and the clinic's Anti-Apparation wards were set to chime whenever someone entered from either the public or private entrances. A hastily whispered unmasking spell revealed he and Sheila were alone, but a second, broader cast revealed there were five people within the wards--four males, one female. Counting the patient, that left only the intruder. What could he possibly want? They kept no drugs, no interdicted potions to hand. Was he after the patient?

He needed help. Drawing his wand, Harry went to Sheila's desk and hit the panic button Moody had insisted he install when he'd opened the clinic a decade ago; he'd never used it before. Help was supposedly on the way and, as he murmured the cantrip to seal both doors to the office, he hoped the Aurors remembered the passwards. While the clinic's denizens could use them freely, it would prevent any other wizards from entering.

Never one for passivity, he wanted to reconnoitre but also didn't want to leave Sheila. His eyes continuously scanning the room, he cautiously opened the door into the private hallway and called in as normal a voice as he could muster, "Jed! Hurry it up! I need that chart, _now_." He returned to Sheila's side, and as the minutes ticked by, a creeping dread filled him when Jed failed to appear as he'd expected.

Had something happened to him as well? And where were those damned Aurors?

He couldn't wait any longer. After seeing to Sheila's comfort and safety, he left the office through the public way. The hallway quieter than his own thoughts, he carefully placed each step so as not to disturb the unnatural silence. Approaching the exam room from the other side, he silently released the lock. Easing the door open, he half-expected the interloper blocking his view of the patient. Heart hammering, the syllables of his own _'Stupefy'_ were almost off his lips when the tall, gaunt figure whirled to face him.

He froze. The cold eyes, now more tawny than topaz, could only belong to one man. Stenman! The gods damn him, it was Stenman. Oozing the same oily urbanity, the man hadn't changed much in the decade since Harry had last seen him in person. Now he understood why the dark magic permeating the homeless man had seemed so familiar; the 'feel' was almost identical to all the other poor souls he'd rescued from Stenman's failed 'experiments' over the ensuing years.

Wands up, they faced each other warily. Harry had survived him once; there would be no second chances in this encounter.

"Well, well. Aren't you the brave little cub?" Stenman drawled, his seeming insouciance belying his taut stance. "I really hadn't expected to see you."

Harry wrinkled his nose as if inhaling a putrid stench. "What the fuck are you doing here?"

Stenman raised a brow. "Oh, pardon me; I thought it was fairly obvious." He gestured behind him. "I was merely attending to some inescapable domestic maintenance."

Eyes narrowed dangerously, Harry asked, "What are you babbling about?"

"I see Snape still comprises the thinking half of your partnership." Stenman laughed with open amusement. "Taking out the garbage, Potter. Every success is built on the backs of numerous failures. Regrettably, this one was singularly disastrous. I can ill-afford to have him found now that he is of no further use to me. He won't bother either of us anymore, though, I assure you."

It was a small mistake; Harry moved his eyes to look at his patient. He'd no more traced the ribbon of blood trailing from the man's mouth to a small puddle on the floor when Stenman cursed him. Defence shields up instantly, Harry easily deflected the shouted _"Crucio"_ and, wand sparking, he reflexively retaliated. _"Stu--"_

_"Expelliarmus!"_

"No. _NO!"_ The wand wrenched from his hand landed several feet away. Quicker than Harry would have credited, Stenman turned to the threat standing in the doorway. Jed didn't stand a chance as the, _"Avada Kedavra,"_ left Stenman's mouth. Action taking over thought, Harry leapt. His remaining defensive shields intercepted the killing curse, knocking it aside as his forward momentum carried him beyond, bowling Jed over into the corridor wall where he slumped unconscious to the floor. Harry fell heavily on his side just inside the door, his head cracking against the metal frame. Dazed, he could only stare at the business end of Stenman's wand.

Damn Jed's misguided heroics, anyway.

"This is most tiresome; I'd thought to have a bit of sport with you, but I think I've changed my mind." Stenman tapped his chin with a long finger. "Decisions, decisions." His mouth twisted into a sneer. "Knowing Snape's penchant for beauty, I'd say you're proof positive that love is truly blind; I think it best not to mar you further. I promise, I won't leave a mark." He raised his wand.

The calculated insults rolling harmlessly off him, time stood still for Harry. Without his wand, his defence shielding would be almost non-existent--certainly not enough to counter a killing curse. He stifled a giggle; Stenman's words, filtered as they were through his sluggish brain, sounded as if they were slogging through a day-old treacle tart. So this was death? What a shame. He couldn't even get comfortable with the floor digging into his hip.

The floor?

With a flash of inspiration, Harry quick-released the metal ball he used to shunt a patient's defensive magic; he didn't need his wand to use this and the _Sanos_. As Stenman opened his mouth, Harry rolled towards him, his head screaming agony. Grabbing the man's leg, he held it firm against a shin, fervently hoping the sphere's matrix would prove sufficient against the coming spell.

With a small prime of _Sanos_ magic, it worked. Stenman howled his frustration as his curse showered out of the sphere in long arcs of pulsing green energy. More spells rained harmlessly down on him as the sphere drew them out as well. Furious, Stenman kicked Harry in the ribs, then under his jaw. Tasting blood, Harry desperately held on. Blackness squeezed the outside of his vision as the blunt toe of Stenman's boot connected again and again with his temple. He mustn't let go!

At some point, his mind shouted at him to stop, that the curse was neutralised and Stenman could be easily subdued now, but Harry couldn't hear his own reason over the irresistible siren call of his righteous rage. Ignoring his body's painful protests, he redoubled his effort, pushing his will behind the ball's purpose; deprived of the curse, it began to drain Stenman's magic. Jagged streaks of uncontained power crackled like lightning bolts until the very air snapped and sparked with the raw magic filling it.

Soon overwhelmed, the sphere's effectiveness waned. As his adversary sank to one knee with a low moan, Harry smoothly added his full _Sanos_ magic, his hatred of Stenman and all he represented fuelling an overwhelming _need_ for justice and a retribution the 'authorities' had yet to exact.

But he could.

Who would speak for those who could not? Eunice's desiccated body flashed before his eyes, the first victim he'd been unable to save.

_No, Harry! Don't draw the line._

He followed the first pathway, the grating _Sanos_ echoing in his head.

Passive observer or empowered retributor? Eunice's daughter stared at him with empty eyes, her frail body too far away for him to save.

Eyesight or line-of-sight magic?

_Stop, before it's too late!_

As easily as a warm knife through butter, Harry severed the magical ability.

Sacred or profane? A young, anonymous stranger, stripped of her womanhood, lay dying under his hands; he'd been too late to save her.

Voice or compulsion?

_You mustn't do this!_

Another magical connection shrivelled under his burning intent.

Life or death? A man's life dripped blood in a puddle on the floor; he never even got the chance to save him.

_No! Don't cross--_

Harry ploughed through the heart of Stenman's power, leaving a ruin in his wake.

Who were the victims?

Gritting his teeth against the blazing backlash of his dark intent, Harry continued to destroy Stenman's magic. Weaker every moment, the wispy strands of energy slithered sluggishly along the floor like tendrils of sparse fog. He searched the remaining shreds of Stenman's power. With one final surge of cacophonous _Sanos_ song, he cut the last of it, inwardly laughing with his victory: the victims were sanctified.

The fluttering pulse of dissipated magic from the sphere stopped with a dreadful finality.

_Oh dear gods, what have you done?_

Done? He'd finally redeemed them all. This bastard would _never_ hurt anyone again.

Panting, they glared at each other, Stenman slumped to the floor next to Harry. He weakly raised his wand, still desperately grasped in his hand, the gasped, _"Avada Kedavra!"_ sounding more like habit than anything harmful.

Nothing happened.

Stunned, Stenman could only stare. _"Stupefy!"_ he cried hoarsely.

Again, nothing happened.

"No!" Stenman yelled, yanking the ball out of Harry's hands. "What have you done?" he shouted, staggering to his feet. Shaking and banging the sphere against his palm, as if a good knock would return everything he'd lost, he tried several spells, but it was no use; he had no magic anymore, not even for a child's _Lumos_. "Give it back to me. _Give it back!"_ Stenman almost sobbed incoherently, holding the ball out to Harry like a broken toy.

Harry was beyond thinking, the giddy triumph turning to lead in his chest. What _had_ he done? "I can't," he gasped. "It's truly gone and I can't--." He turned his aching head away to the side and, spitting blood at Stenman's feet, mumbled stubbornly, "And I wouldn't, even if I could."

Harry braced for a physical attack that never came. Wobbling like an infant on his first legs, Stenman wailed his loss and threw the sphere, crashing it into the wall. Flinching at the impact, Harry could only watch as Stenman stumbled out of the room almost tripping over Jed's body blocking the corridor. A few moments after his moving shadow disappeared from Harry's sight, the wards chimed; Stenman had made good his escape out the back door.

Harry rolled on his back. Empty. He was as empty as the dark haze slowly filling his sight. There was nothing left in him; he'd crossed the line and could never go back. He should feel remorse, but it was denied him as was any comfort that he'd done it in self-defence. He knew better. He could have stopped at almost any point, could have summoned his wand and easily bound Stenman before he recovered enough to do him any harm.

But he hadn't. He'd not _wanted_ to stop. He'd wanted to hurt, wanted to harm, wanted to waste the man as much as he'd wasted countless others. He'd wanted Stenman to live with his punishment. He had wanted and that want, that pleasure of hateful fulfilment had satisfied almost as much as the pleasure he derived from loving. Almost, but enough, a taste of what he could have: justice and the pleasure of meting it.

He groaned as the long-ignored quiet voice, so much like Severus', demanded his full attention. Its message was clear: he was a monster, no better than the wizard he'd sought to destroy. Worse in fact, it whispered, for he'd betrayed himself.

And Severus. Oh gods--Severus! How could he face him? How much would Severus hate him for crossing the line? Could their bond sustain them through this?

Where did he go from here? He started chuckling like a madman with his mind's immediate answer. Heal yourself. Get off the floor. See if Jed's all right. Check on Sheila. Clean up the body. Find out why the authorities aren't here yet. Hysterical laughter bubbled out of him. How typically inane: he was sprawled on the floor, possibly blind, he'd just turned someone into a squib, he was probably going to lose his husband, and his mind's only solution was a fucking to-do list. He felt--

What?

--He felt another presence. Hearing nothing, he tried to find it, eyes closed against the filmy haziness still blocking his sight. Ah, there _was_ someone here--close, very close--almost on top of him--someone who did not speak. Maybe he'd not been as thorough as he'd thought? Had Stenman returned? Had he sent someone else? Instinctively gathering the _Sanos_ once again, he released it in broad waves around him, seeking to remove the perceived threat. New pain blossomed in his chest and arms. The floor moved beneath him, buckling as if it wanted to swallow him. His wrists were taken in a death grip as someone he should know but couldn't recall, shouted stridently in his head, "Damn it, Harry, stop!"

He steadily pushed the magic, the grip on his wrists increasing as he heard cries of pain from whoever held him. Glad of his success, he relentlessly continued the pounding _Sanos_ punishment, wanting to harm, wanting to kill whoever had him captive, relishing the weakening cries of agony as he wrenched his treacherous foe's beating heart. Just a few more moments was all he--

An icy wall sliced through his power, the abrupt cessation of his magic leaving him reeling. He heard harsh panting as the haziness receded, his first waking vision that of long dark hair hiding the light, his first waking feel that of a body suspended above him desperately sucking in air. Harry blinked, trying to bring it into focus. Pale as a ghost, Severus' body bound him to the floor, his hands painfully holding his wrists over his head in a death grip. How--?

As sight returned, so did feeling. He hurt. Staggering pain coursed through him, agony he soon realised came from Severus in aching pulses. No, Severus hurt. His senses told him this was the least of it, the small aftershocks of something much larger. Confused, his eyes wandered, seeking the threat to his mate, to him--but he could sense nothing but them.

As feeling returned, so did his sense of place and time. 'Here' was Hogwarts, not the clinic. This floor was the carpet before the fire in Severus' office, not the cold tile in the exam room. Now was this morning, not several days ago. The hands holding him down were real, not a part of the memory still playing in his head. The castle was trembling. Severus was kneeling over him, the tremors running down his body keeping perfect time with the stone rumbles. Little by little they quieted until both were still.

As reality returned, so did blinding awareness. _He'd almost killed Severus!_

No! Not this! Chaos erupted. Events tumbled into an endless palette of shame as visions and reality and memory swirled into one horrific whole. Draco became Stenman who pushed Eunice into an old man in front of a train while a bloody baby danced around Sheila's crumpled form. Wands flashing fire became spheres spewing magic became verdant copper wildfire became a poison green light shattering Severus' flying body. Formless apologies to them all burst forth, his words falling like so much gibberish even in his own ears. Panicked, he struggled to escape, to leave this place of breathless insanity, certain that if he did not, it would suck him forever into total madness.

A whispering filled his ears, while soothing images filled his mind, slowly replacing the frightening jumble. Kisses. Those were kisses. Gentle kisses caressing his face. Words. That was Severus' voice. The low deep tones replacing the piteous cries of those he'd damned. "Hush, love," washed over him, "lay still," filling him with a fragile peace, "you're fine," slowed it down, "it's all right now," bringing some meaning to sound and order to chaos. "You're home now."

One unsteady breath followed another. He was home?

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

Severus watched Harry closely through watering eyes. He seemed calm enough now, his eyes staring into nothing. Taking the chance, he released Harry's hands, hands that moments before had been beating furiously against him as his spouse had desperately tried to escape his mind's tumult. He sat back on his heels, wheezing. Turning his head to the side, he coughed violently; the raucous hacking, which threatened to split his head open, finally expelled the blockage making breathing so difficult. Spitting the thick wad of phlegm into the nearby fireplace, he drew one deep breath after another as it sizzled and popped; the last of his physical impediments going up in pale smoke.

Well, almost. Gods, he was sore. And worried. The memory in itself had been almost overwhelming, far worse than he'd expected, but he was more concerned that Harry wasn't recovering from it well. His thoughts whirling like chaff on the wind, he sternly collected them one by one until he was concentrated on one task: finding the cause of Harry's adverse reaction. Was it sensory overload? Disorientation? Or had the memory actually harmed him? With a heavy sigh, he prepared to find out.

"I'd hoped you could avoid this," a quiet, familiar voice said sadly over his head.

Without looking, he replied tersely, "Did _you_, old man?"

"No, he didn't," another softer voice chimed in.

Startled, Severus looked up at the portrait; Poppy stood in front of Albus, whose gnarled hands lightly kneaded her shoulders.

"And it's never about whether _you_ are enough," she added, "but rather if _he_ is enough."

"I've no time for word games," he snarled.

"Have _I_ ever minced my words to you, Severus?" Poppy asked with unexpected asperity. "You will understand when you need to; I cannot just give them to you if you've not grown enough to accept them." She looked to the side at the other portraits and tilted her head. "And you'll not readily find any answers here."

True--there were too many eyes about. He looked back to Harry as if the answers to his many questions were written on his still-unresponsive face. Glancing back up, he closed his mouth over his scathing rejoinder; the frame stood empty.

Poppy was right; they needed to go home. A quick check eased his mind on one point; Harry's response wasn't due to memory damage. Soon after, when his husband opened his eyes in blatant confusion, Severus dipped his head and touched his lips lightly to Harry's, smiling with what he hoped was encouragement.

"Severus? Why does my head hurt?" Harry whispered. "Where--? I thought I--" Eyes widening, he tried to sit up. "Are you all right?"

Severus silenced Harry's fresh panic with another soft kiss, then helped him to sit. His hands cupping Harry's face, he murmured as if to a small child, "Shh. I'm better; so are you. Let's get us well first and oriented. I confess I'm not at my best right now and neither are you."

He eased back to his knees. When excruciating cramps wracked his muscles he realised that, while it may have saved his life, their bond had done little to prevent collateral damage. A glance at Harry's swollen and bruised wrists and arms confirmed Harry had some as well, and he was suddenly very glad Harry had left Sleave in their quarters. Severus shakily stood, holding out his hand. Struggling, Harry soon followed, both of them swaying in place. Arms wrapped around each other, Severus closed his eyes and Apparated them to their bedchamber.

Severus led a docile Harry to their bed, although he more fell than crawled into it. Turning away from him, Harry curled into a tight ball, his miserable silence ripping through Severus' heart.

Certain that Harry was suffering from _Sanos_ fatigue, Severus opened the bedside drawer; Harry always kept a supply in here. Rummaging through the surprising contents, Severus soon realised this was more than just a repository for his husband's night-time things, it was full of little titbits he would never have thought consequential.

But Harry had.

He sat down hard on the mattress' edge, undone, his own problems momentarily forgot. Remarkably, he'd never gone through Harry's drawer before and, feeling like an interloper in someone else's life, he pulled the contents out one by one. A lock of his own hair tied with a bit of leather, a wooden box with their Orders of Merlin new and untarnished, a small perfect seashell, a pretty rock he remembered Perrin bringing back his first summer in Hana--these and dozens of other small mementos soon filled his lap and the bed around him. Digging around at the side, he pulled out the familiar leather box containing the vials of restorative. Opening it, he plucked out one, and set it on the tabletop.

He was about to return everything when a spot of white caught his attention. Reaching into the far back, he gingerly pulled out a compact bundle of perfectly preserved freesia, clover, and meadow grass tied with a thin red ribbon. Holding it to his nose, its sweet fragrance brought contented memories of the first time he'd made love to his husband surrounded by a gifted spring in the deepest winter, and reminded him that hope can sometimes best the most impossible odds. This was what Harry's collection was all about; those small, everyday things tying them together. As he wondered anew at Harry's capacity to find the good in life, a solid peace filled him along with renewed hope. They would weather this, it would be all right. Setting the bundle next to the restorative, he carefully replaced everything else back in the drawer the way he'd found them.

Studying Harry's colourless face and near-catatonia, he surmised he would need every bit of that hope if he were to reach him; they had a long way to go. But only if they were both recovered. Sliding his arm under his husband's shoulders, he tugged and coaxed him to sit in the circle of his arm. Practised fingers uncapped the vial and in small sips, he managed to get it all down Harry with only a few drops spilled. By small degrees, his still-silent spouse sagged against him, fast asleep. A whispered spell later, he gently laid Harry down. Rolling on his side, Harry blindly groped Severus' side of the bed. Severus smiled; the sight of Harry wrapped around his purloined pillow, nose buried in the middle, was familiar from those mornings he left a sleepy, sated Harry before going to work. While it usually made him feel content, the endearing gesture now produced an unaccustomed flutter through his stomach. He turned his thoughts away from its source; no, he wasn't ready to visit _that_ just yet.

He was smoothing some wayward hair from Harry's face when the cramps hit him, a vivid reminder that he needed to take care of himself as well. His joints only seemed to groan as he hobbled from the bed half-bent from the pain. Uncertain whether he could walk that far again, he closed his eyes and concentrated on the castle, more to the point, the stone itself. Stepping forward, he walked straight through the bedroom wall and into his private potions storeroom several levels away. Raiding his shelves, he downed a strong pain panacea. Feeling every one of his sixty-four years, he leaned heavily against his worktable impatiently willing it to work.

A few minutes later, he called Dobby. The speed with which the house-elf elder appeared matched the alarm in Dobby's eyes.

"No one could get into your office," Dobby said without preamble. "Is everything all right?"

Severus closed his eyes against a wave of dizziness. "It's fine, Dobby. Tell the others it was just a misunderstanding with the castle and not to worry. Also, tell Minerva I have some serious personal business to attend and, until further notice, she and Alastor are in charge; under _no_ circumstances--and I mean that--are we to be disturbed. Even if Voldemort rises from the dead and storms the castle, I want no interruptions. I will explain later."

Dobby nodded, his face clearing of its worry. "And does the headmaster want Dobby to discreetly provide food and drink?"

Severus considered it a moment. "A good idea, but mind you don't accompany it; we may get very--private."

Dobby blushed.

Severus sighed as the house-elder 'popped' away. As an afterthought, he collected in a basket a few more items--another restorative, a calming draught, and an unopened bottle of aged cognac he'd hidden years ago under the worktable for emergencies. He supposed this qualified. Morphing back to his bedchamber through the wall, he set everything on his side table before making a much-needed visit to the loo.

Returning to the bed, he conjured a snifter and, pouring himself two fingers of the fine Remy, set it aside for the moment. Toeing off his shoes, he climbed up on the bed. He'd no more propped himself against the headboard than Harry scooted over and substituted his lap for the pillow, his head snuggling into the muscle the way Mribeth's paws kneaded a cushion before napping. Harry sighed and threw an arm over Severus' thighs, his hand curled around his knee.

Summoning the snifter, Severus sipped the fine cognac; the soft sting as he rolled it in his mouth and the burning as it slid smoothly down his throat made a soothing counterpoint to his ragged thoughts. Drawn to the man resting so trustingly on him, Severus let the dark, wild tendrils of silky hair flow through his fingers. It was hard to reconcile this peaceful slumber to the memory of Harry thrashing on the floor in panic. Difficult to forget his own desperate attempts to stop Harry when the _Sanos_ had ripped through him, making every cell in his body scream in an agony worse than any _Cruciatus_ he'd ever experienced. Almost impossible not to feel once again the faltering of his heart, his lungs labouring to draw in even one more breath.

It had been a near thing, his death.

Nor was it easy to remember that Harry's attack had been blindly directed at an unknown enemy, and Severus sternly reminded himself again that what had just happened to him was by no means similar to what Harry had done to Avery and Draco. And what he did to Stenman? Gods, how utterly magnificent! Severus had always been attracted to power and was certainly no stranger to its abuses, but never had it struck so close to home; never had he faced Harry's full magic as an adversary.

As much as he hated to admit it, using _Legilimency_ to penetrate Harry's memory had not been one of his brighter ideas and a total failure. His second, panicked invasion into Harry's mind had done nothing but make him another element within the memory, an intrusive imbalance to a mind already disoriented and overloaded. The subsequent attack was understandable; Harry had every right to protect himself from something he perceived as a threat, just as he had with Stenman.

Yet it frightened him. Oh, not with what Harry could ultimately do to him; the bond had proven today that Harry couldn't permanently harm him. No, he wondered if _he_ would be sufficient to keep Harry in check as Albus had intended. Was it possible for _him_ to stop so much power? Could _he_ keep Harry from hurting others again? And if not, how was he to protect them both from the Ministry's outrage if they discovered the public's golden boy had committed, with malice, an atrocity as dark as any his husband had perpetrated? Would they accept and forgive the act as self-defence, or would they let their mindless fear of Harry's true power drive them into a course of personal annihilation? Would there be a world wide enough to swallow them from the resulting retribution?

He set the now-empty snifter aside and rested his head back against the headboard, his hand buried in Harry's hair. How had Poppy coped with Albus? Surely she'd faced the same quandaries, the same inner turmoil whenever Albus stepped over the line. Severus knew Albus had used his abilities questionably many times; he'd seen it with his own eyes, the stark ruthlessness a cruelty in itself, made even more heinous for its rarity. And yet, in the long run, Albus was one of the most moral men he'd ever known.

Was it Poppy who'd kept him balanced? How had she pulled Albus back from the abyss intact? How had she protected her husband from his own folly? The burden of her legacy roiled through his mind as he struggled to understand it. Today had brought _him_ a harsh lesson; if Harry was determined, there wasn't much any one person, least of all himself, could do to stop him.

Except Harry himself.

He sat forward abruptly, almost dislodging his sleeping spouse. Poppy's most recent words floated through his memory, and he suddenly understood. Poppy was ever so much weaker magically than Albus and yet she'd managed to hold her own for almost eighty years. How? Because it had never been a matter whether she--her power--was enough; it couldn't be. However, her inner strength and faith in Albus' innate goodness _were_ sufficient to support Albus so that _he_ had the continuing strength to resist. She'd never been Albus' _conscience_, but through her unconditional love and by being true to herself and their bond, she'd been his _foundation_.

Crafty old woman; surely he could do the same? Their moral cores similar, surely he could be the mirror reflecting an affirmation of Harry's own deeply held values. However, what if he couldn't? What if Harry crossed the line and never looked back? What if he became irredeemable? He shied away from the thought. Such an occurrence would be worse than death, for his own morality would require him to destroy the one he loved the most.

But that was impossible with their bond. He couldn't harm Harry any more than Harry could harm him. A stalemate, then. No, a balance--between equals; he mustn't denigrate his own abilities, either. The thought made him relax a bit. Poppy again had the answer; he must remain consistent in _his_ beliefs and faith in Harry's goodness.

With this revelation came the comforting realisation that he'd overlooked the most important element--Harry--his husband of twenty years, a man he _knew_ inside and out. A gentle man who'd dedicated his life to helping others, not destroying them. Harry would never harm another without reason and the rare times he'd succumbed to provocation, he'd grieved afterwards--even for Voldemort. This last week he'd felt Harry's conflict, felt his guilt and shame at what he'd done and this, more than anything else, convinced him Harry's fundamental core was still intact. Harry was still the man he loved and cherished.

He slumped back against the headboard in relief and released a heavy sigh. Now if he could only convince _Harry_ this was true.

.:0:. .:0:. .:0:. .:0:.

He'd not realised how far he'd slipped down the bed until the throes of Harry's nightmare solidly connected with his chest. Instantly awake, Severus caught his flailing limb the third time it made contact and held it fast against him with his arm. As Harry struggled in eerie silence, Severus urgently tried to wake him. He finally resorted to half-laying on him, using his body to keep Harry still. With a jerk and a sharp cry, Harry woke, easily throwing Severus off as he dashed from the bed, running for the bathroom.

Almost a quarter hour passed before Severus began to worry. Resigned, he left the warmth of their bed and knocked on the door. Receiving no response, a quick peek revealed that Harry was in the shower. Guessing he'd been sick, Severus hastily withdrew and went back to bed to wait.

When Harry returned, Severus asked quietly, "Feeling better?"

Harry gave a small nod, but said nothing. His back against a pile of pillows, Severus patiently waited for Harry to crawl in next to him before tucking him under his arm. Harry immediately curled around him, his head snuggled into Severus' chest, his body shaking. Severus held him close, safe inside his arms, a warm and solid and _living_ weight he gladly bore with the greatest relief. Unbidden, the tightly coiled grief he'd held within unwound, its icy tendrils enwrapped him, plaguing him with the visions of what might have been.

Arms folded around his husband as tightly as those desperately holding him back, he suffered again the torment greater than anything Harry had meted, a ravenous despair which had almost consumed him as he'd helplessly watched Stenman point his deadly wand at a defenceless Harry. Stenman would have killed Harry with nary a qualm, would have, with a flippant flick of his wand, ripped from _him_ the only pure part of his soul. Even _knowing_ Harry survived had not erased the wrenching fear and, for a moment, lost again in the memory, he knew in full how unbearable life would be without Harry.

Yet worse than this was the inexorable knowledge that the sharp pain of Harry's death at Stenman's hands would be infinitely preferable to the slow torture of Harry's devolution into someone he should loathe, but could only love. He wanted to pull Harry inside himself, to protect him forever from such folly, a most selfish act if only to keep the demons of his future sorrow at bay. A sorrow so fresh he could almost taste it; the bitter ashes of his possible future filled his mouth and throat, choking the cries of grief he wanted to keen to the heavens.

Harry shifted, moving his body closer. Feather touches to his jaw worked their way up his cheek until warm salty lips met his in a mutual sharing of grief and comfort as faith and understanding flowed between them. An elusive peace filled him as he fell into their bond, fell into Harry, drawing Harry unto himself as well, each protecting the other. He'd forgot he wasn't alone, forgot that if he could sense Harry, he could be felt in return, but Harry reminded him with the gentle touch of hands and mouth and body. Harry had heard and understood his fears and in return gave him the promise that his faith would not be misplaced. So deep was this understanding, they would never speak of it, for the joining of souls knows no words.

Life beat between them when their lips parted. Green eyes held black captive, then closed. Harry curled back into him, back into the haven of his arms. A whispered, "I'm sorry," reached him, but he still couldn't find the words. Instead he pressed his lips to Harry's forehead and pulled him closer. It was enough; they were both enough for now.

Some time later, reality intruded when a small table 'popped' next to them with a tea service and a small plate of sandwiches. With two steaming cups in hand, they sipped reflectively; neither one made a move for the food. While their sharing had been purging in its own way, it still needed to be said where the words could catch the light of day. He needed to get Harry to talk about it and release his guilt. He snorted, sending small ripples across his tea; he suspected that would be as easy as convincing Minerva not to bait Moody.

Harry at least seemed calmer and the bond lay open between them; this was another bit of progress as was his summoning two halves of a sandwich from the plate beside him, handing one to Severus. Taking the hint, Severus set aside his cup and ate the offering quickly while Harry took his at a slower pace.

"Severus, are you all right," Harry asked in a small voice. "Did I--hurt you?"

He stroked Harry' hair. "I'm fine. No lasting harm done; you just lost your perspective of time."

"Pardon?"

Severus studied his guilt-riddled eyes and quickly dismissed the unworthy thought that perhaps this alone would prevent Harry from using his power indiscriminately. "When you took the second memory, you were disoriented and lost the objectivity you'd gained over the ten years separating them. It was as if both had happened on the same day; your hair-trigger reaction was quite understandable and I should have anticipated it better."

Harry pulled away. "How can you be so calm about it?" he exclaimed, his gaze turning puzzled. "Severus, I almost _killed_ you!"

Severus stopped him with a kiss. "It seems to me the only thing you truly did was establish once and for all that you can't cause me lasting harm." He winced, shifting slightly. "Oh, I'll allow it was a bit uncomfortable for a while, but the bond stopped you cold." He shifted again. "Although, you did rattle the castle." He chuckled. "Considering how smug it's been lately, this might not be a bad thing."

Harry looked at him as if he were mad, but said nothing.

Severus decided to jump in with both feet. "I'm more interested with the rest of it; what happened after Stenman left?" Harry stiffened. "I can't help if I don't know," Severus added gently, hoping a recitation of fact would distract Harry from his morose thoughts.

Harry stirred restlessly against him, suddenly setting the sandwich aside.

Severus summoned it back. "Eat. Please. You've suffered a shock."

"Yes, mum," Harry said with unexpected levity.

When Harry finished his bite, he sighed. "You're right." He snuggled into Severus' side, his eyes staring at nothing at all. "Not much sense going through all this if we don't finish it." Pictures of the events that followed began to fill Severus' mind through their bond as Harry dully recited, "I don't know how long I lay there, I was half-blind, but eventually Sheila arrived and revived Jed. While Jed healed me, Sheila covered the body. I didn't have the heart to tell her we shouldn't touch anything; it made me feel better to have the thing covered."

The image of Jed's almost fawning, obsequious behaviour annoyed Severus as it always did, but Harry liked him well enough and he had to trust his judgement in such matters. He wished he wasn't coming with Harry to Hogwarts, though, but if that was the price for having both Harry and Perrin here--

"The Aurors never showed and, when I groused about it, Sheila admitted disconnecting 'that useless thing' several years before when the magic emanating from it kept blistering her leg." He huffed impatiently, the first sign of life from him. "I don't know why she didn't just move it--or herself. Would have saved us all a spot of bother if the Aurors had arrived _before_ I confronted Stenman, but I couldn't chastise her for it; she was doing a fine job of it all by herself."

He took a sip of tea. "I called the Aurors myself; Shacklebolt arrived a few minutes later. I'm not certain why we deserved the attentions of their Director, but at least I knew that if Kingsley said he'd be discreet, I wouldn't see it in the papers the next day." Via the images, Severus watched Shacklebolt secure the site with two other Aurors, hopefully equally closed-mouthed; while they investigated the scene, he commandeered Harry's office. One by one, he questioned them all.

"He released Sheila and Jed. They'd not seen anything and, even though he'd been in the room, Jed couldn't recall--even under Veritaserum--what my 'attacker' looked like other than he had flaming red hair and a big nose. Obviously Stenman was using a disguising charm. I don't know why I did it, but when I overheard Jed's description, I stuck to it and steadfastly maintained I didn't know who the 'intruder' was, either." He laughed mirthlessly. "Shacklebolt believed me; why wouldn't he? The bloody boy-who-lived would never lie to him, now would he?"

Severus reserved comment. When Harry's pictures changed to him locking up the clinic and heading for the station, Severus stopped him with a hand on his arm. "I think I remember it from here," he said gently. Settling deeper into the mattress, he mused, "We'll need to see Kingsley soon, I'm thinking." Harry went still. "Why on earth didn't you tell him the truth?" he asked, the sudden ice in his stomach making it ache.

Harry said nothing for a long while. "I don't know; I suppose partly out of shame. I admire Kingsley and I was afraid he would think less of me."

"Well, he'll certainly 'think less of you' when he discovers you lied to him." Severus replied with regret.

"I have to tell him, don't I?" Assuming the question as rhetorical, Severus didn't bother replying. "How much do I have to tell him?" Harry asked quietly.

Severus replied evenly, "That which is important. The attack, your defence, and what you ultimately did to Stenman."

"I see." Harry stiffened. "What's the punishment for taking someone's magic?"

Severus gave his reply 'quiet' thought; Harry must _never_ know the lengths he would go to protect him. "If it's premeditated," he began cautiously, "the penalty is the same as rape or any other purposeful harm to another: life in Azkaban after being reduced to a squib." As Harry winced, Severus added, "However, a strong case of self-defence could be made in this instance, for which there would be no punishment. _But_--" he held up his hand "--irrespective of the reasons, _how_ you did it could earn you as severe a penalty should it become publicly known. You've done well to keep your abilities secret."

As Harry drew breath to protest, Severus explained, "Yes, you must let Kingsley know that Stenman was at the clinic and what name he goes by now; as 'The Pet' he's a wanted man, the list of his crimes is so long they need wizarding space to hold them all. Yes, you need to tell him Stenman is now a squib and that 'somehow' you were responsible for it, but perhaps it would be wiser to omit the specifics. It's no lie that you don't know 'how' you do these things, and speculation is far better than actual knowledge. Kingsley is not a stupid man; he'll suspect, but he won't challenge."

Harry sat up. "Surely he'll want to use Veritaserum."

"Harry, you're forgetting; you're impervious to it."

"Oh, right," he said, "but there _are_ other means."

"Yes, there are, and you're looking at one of them. As a _Legilimens_, I can honestly verify the truth of your statements--even under Veritaserum."

Harry slumped back into Severus. "So many lies," he whispered.

"I think we've had this conversation before," Severus replied solemnly.

"I remember," Harry said forlornly, his voice muffled by Severus' robes. "It wasn't self-defence, you know."

"In the beginning it was."

"True, but I could have stopped," Harry whispered.

"Yes, you could have, but you didn't."

Harry lowered his eyes. "I just wanted to stop him from hurting anyone else."

Inhaling the clean fragrance of balsa, Severus laid his cheek on Harry's head. "I know; for men of good heart, the road to perdition is always paved with good intentions."

"I should have stopped when I had the chance. I should have listened to myself."

Severus sighed heavily. "You have a knack for making this difficult, don't you?"

Frowning, Harry looked up at him. "What?"

"Stenman. Had it been almost anyone but that bastard... I'm torn. On one hand we both know what you did was wrong, but on the other? Damn, it's so difficult..." He paused, squarely facing his own memories. "I've experienced firsthand Stenman's evil as Voldemort's 'Pet'. I've _seen_ what he did to others, the torture, the humiliation, the agony; I can still hear their screams. And in light of his past brutality and all the atrocities he would have committed in the future, I find it extremely difficult to gainsay your actions. Stenman deserved it--every soul-sucking second of it and there is a part of me deeply satisfied with what you did. I think everyone would agree. In fact, I'm quite certain that if I thought on it long enough, I could even justify it and get you an Order of Merlin for it."

Harry gasped, "Severus!"

Severus sighed. "And therein lies the trap for both of us; for no matter how heinous the crimes, it is not ours, nor any _one_ person's place to sit as judge, jury, and executioner--"

"You must hate me for what I did."

Severus snorted. "After all our years together, you could still think this? Come now, I would hope you know me better than that. I could _never_ hate you."

Harry shook his head. "No, this is different. This is like nothing we've shared before because we _didn't_ share it. I did it. Alone. With full knowledge--" Harry stopped and tried to pull away.

Severus held him tight, thinking fast. "Perhaps not. Let's be plain. Full knowledge assumes full thought; unfortunately, the _Sanos_ is not based on thought, it's based on emotion and you've always allowed your passions to dictate how you use _all_ your magic, not just the _Sanos_."

When Harry opened his mouth to disagree, Severus placed his hand over it. "Patience, Harry." He pulled his hand away and waited. Harry raised a brow. Severus chuckled and continued, "I know, you can't practice the _Sanos_ without emotion. But you also can't practice it with unbridled emotion, either." Harry nodded, understanding filling his face. "This is not the first time you've 'misused' your abilities, but with Avery and Draco, you resisted your baser desires. This time, however, you allowed your hate full rein, the result being that Stenman is now irrevocably a squib. While one could rationalise it and say it's not so grievous because he's still alive, the point is--"

"--I lost control," Harry finished for him, finally voicing his true fear, one that had haunted him for years.

"No one is perfect, love and, for people like us, all we can do is _walk_ the fine line, hoping to keep our balance."

"And if we fall?"

Severus sighed. "It's never easy is it? As long as we feel remorse for what we've done, then redemption is as simple and as hard as not doing it again. The moment you stop questioning your motives, stop caring that you've harmed another, regardless the reason, this is the moment you'll have crossed the fine line forever."

"You'd hate me, then, wouldn't you?"

Severus phrased his answer carefully. "The potential loss of my affections cannot be used as a crutch to avoid your moral responsibilities, Harry." He waited for Harry to digest such a simple and yet bold statement; it was important Harry understand the wherewithal to stop could only come from within himself.

The steely resolve in Severus' eyes chilled Harry to his core. "So I must do this alone?" he asked plaintively, fearing the answer; he couldn't bear it if he lost Severus.

"No, love," Severus replied gently, kissing his forehead. "Together we will help each other. I'm as much at risk of falling as you are, maybe more so; the list of my sins is already long. I've crossed that line more than once. The way in is easy, the way out is paved with the souls of those who paid the penalty of my education."

Mortified, Harry admitted, "Like Stenman. I let the anger, the hate, take over. I hated him with everything I was." He held Severus' gaze and whispered, "I'm so sorry, Severus. For so many things."

At Severus' slow, thoughtful nod, and equally firm, "You have to forgive yourself, you know," Harry dropped his head, looking at his hands resting lax on his lap. Gentle hands took his and held on tightly while warm, moist lips kissed his palms.

Harry slowly raised his face to Severus' loving, concerned eyes. Falling into their tender depths, Harry reconnected with his husband and, feeling a long-awaited peace steal over him, he wondered how he'd ever thought them cold. He basked in the love flowing through him strongly, giving back his own to this man who had never, ever, lost faith in him.

This time he was the one to bestow a serious kiss, their lips meshing perfectly. Clothing spelled to the side, Harry stoked the fire for Severus beneath him. There was something about the bond that required skin as bare and open as their hearts for it to twine them into one. Arms tight around each other, pleasure built upon pleasure and, in a taut moment of perfection, they shared something far beyond the completion of desire. For one infinite instant they were one--one mind, one body, one soul. And then they were two, but the memory remained, strong for when they would _need_ it next.

A while later, still lying comfortably on top of Severus, Harry said with deceptive mildness, "Rose."

Severus half-opened his eyes. "Mmm? What?"

"Eunice's daughter. She needs a name. I'll call her Rose."

"Why Rose?"

Harry tilted his head. "I don't know. It's pretty; she should have a pretty name. All the women in my mother's family had flower names and it's one Malfoy would never choose. And aren't roses supposed to symbolise love?"

Severus considered it. "Red roses mean passion, but white roses mean purity."

"Purity," Harry said thoughtfully, swirling his finger through the hairs on Severus' chest. "That's good. I could use some purity."

Pulling his head back into the pillow, Severus asked sharply, "Why would you say that?"

Harry looked to the side. "Something pure is something clean, undefiled. I need something to wash away what I did; you know, like absolution."

Severus hands framed Harry's face. "Harry, with regards to her, you've done nothing to forgive."

"Perhaps not, but I have to consider the other times I've fallen." Severus said nothing, but Harry knew he still disagreed. "I'll tell you what, I'll forgive myself if you'll forgive yourself."

The hands running random patterns along his back stilled as Severus replied, "What are you talking about?"

Harry sighed, tracing a finger down Severus' cheek. "Did you really think I haven't seen over the years all the nightmares and regrets you still have about your time with Voldemort?" He gave Severus a kiss to take the sting out of his words, even if they were true.

Severus stiffened under him. "That's different," he said soberly. "I actually _murdered_ people, Harry. In cold, premeditated blood. You've done no such thing."

"I think you're forgetting 'His Scaliness', but that's a different matter altogether."

Rolling off Severus, Harry gently tugged, urging Severus to face him. Harry studied his serious expression and kissed him softly before saying quietly, "Aren't our separate transgressions just different sides of the same coin?" Severus nodded warily. "Then why is it you think I'd have an easier time doing it than you?" When Severus looked away without answering, Harry tenderly cupped his face. "I'm no innocent either, love, and my soul has the same value as yours. If I am so deserving of absolution, then so are you."

"Perhaps, but I'm not certain I'm ready for it."

"I understand." Harry said, snuggling his head into the pillow. "And neither am I."

"Hmph. Point taken." Severus rolled over on his back and opened his arms.

"I thought you'd never ask," Harry murmured, lazily moving into 'his' spot.

Severus snorted, "As if you've ever required an invitation?"

Harry chuckled. "No, but sometimes it's nice to be invited."

"I'll keep that in mind," Severus replied, yawning.

Sleep was almost upon them when a melodious chiming filled the room. With a groan, Harry groggily sat up as a pleasant, disembodied female voice softly intoned, "Incoming international message."

Severus touched Harry's arm. "Leave it. Likely it's Ben. I forgot to write him and he probably wants to make certain we're coming for the christening. We'll collect it in the morning."

Harry yawned and stretched before burrowing into the bed's warmth. "No arguments here."

However, they'd barely re-situated themselves when the chime sounded again, followed by the voice stating dispassionately, "International message received. Medical emergency. Please respond."

"Shit," Harry said, throwing off the covers. Striding to the wardrobe, he donned his dressing gown and left the room for the Rotunda's _Loquarium_. Severus waited; there was no need for both of them to freeze.

A few minutes later, Harry returned. "It's Lahela," he said, rummaging in the wardrobe.

"Ah, hell," Severus exclaimed softly, thinking of the bright little girl who lived in the mountains of Hana. "What happened?"

Harry sighed heavily. "Relapse and a systemic infection."

"Serious?"

"With Leukaemia, everything's serious, but yes, this is particularly dangerous; Joseph wouldn't have called otherwise." He briefly debated a white button-down shirt but chose instead a dark green pullover. "Damn it," he exclaimed, his voice muffled as he worked his head through the polo collar. "I thought we'd fixed this." He pulled on a pair of faded jeans. Tucking in the shirt, he added, "I suppose it wouldn't be a good idea to let the Prime Minister know the formula doesn't _always_ work the first time?"

"Probably not," Severus agreed.

As Harry approached the bed to say goodbye, the guilt stabbed him when he noticed how drained Severus still looked, his eyes shadowed with the same serious thoughts darkening his own. The day's crises, only partially resolved, chafed like wet cloth on skin. This was all his fault, and he regretted leaving Severus here to bear it alone. Then he spied the bundle of freesia on his bedside table. Maybe not? He picked it up from the table and inhaled the scent as he always did whenever he was feeling down. "Come with me?" Harry asked, presenting Severus the flowers.

Severus closed his eyes and held the blossoms to his nose. To Harry's utter, pleased surprise, Severus nodded as he set the bundle on his night table. "You might need an assistant," he said, calmly leaving the bed.

Waiting for him to dress, Harry leaned one shoulder against the other wardrobe. It didn't take long; Severus was a master of the middle-of-the-night summons. They were half-way out the door when Severus stopped and threaded his hand through Harry's hair. Kissing him tenderly, Severus smiled and whispered, "Rose is a fine name."

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FINIS Walking a Fine Line  
Hiding Under the Ninth Earth continued in Book Four : A Two-Edged Sword

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_While everyone knows the length of time it takes to write a story, what one might not know is that the effort of one's betas can be equally long and arduous, especially for this chapter. Countless mails and comments were written in a lively, philosophical debate concerning the moral issues addressed in this story, much of which had to be set aside for future endeavours. Aseneth and Lydia Lovestruck's personal philosophies are as much a part of this story as my own and for their friendship and honesty, I am most grateful. I am truly blessed. _

I Got Tired of Waiting : April 2006

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